i carry your heart
by Becks Rylynn
Summary: A series of misfortunes could lead to the downfall of Dean and Ruby's relationship. A Lila Bray 'verse version of season seven.
1. i tell my love to wreck it all

_AN: Well, here it is. The Lila Bray 'verse season seven that I've been working on since the season started. I wasn't going to post this until next week, but eh, what the hell. I'm in a really good mood today. I just saw the most amazing Dean/Ruby video on Youtube (by bmania, who is just an epic vidder) and I've had a great day, so why the hell not, right? I suppose I should feel bad about starting a new story while I have so many other ones on the go, but I honestly don't feel bad at all. I've been working too hard on this trucker. It's my precious._

_Now I'm sure you're all tired of me saying this, but this was supposed to be a oneshot... Kidding! No, I always knew this was going to be a multi-chapter story. My problem is that I've been trying to work out how many chapters it's going to be, but I still have no clue. I'm hoping to be able to post it all during the Hellatus, but who knows, right? Other than that, this story means a lot to me. I've been working really hard on it, so I hope it's a hit with you guys. Although, I do have to warn you that it's going to be a pretty bumpy ride. It's not going to be the...fluffiest story there ever was._

_Amanda! This is for you! Consider this your (early) birthday present from me. I hope you're doing okay with everything and I hope you have a great birthday, sweetheart, because you deserve it. Love you!_

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>_i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)  
><em>**Summary:** Lila Bray 'verse season seven. A series of misfortunes could lead to the downfall of Dean and Ruby's relationship.  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Dean/Ruby. Onesided Castiel/Ruby.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean, Ruby, Sam, Bobby, little bit of Cas, Lila Bray. Any other important season seven characters (such as Sheriff Jodie Mills) are fair game. I'm thinking Sarah Blake might make an appearance sometime down the line. (Remember: She is very important to the Lila Bray 'verse.)  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Hurt/Comfort/Angst  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for now. Rating may change later on.  
><strong>Timeline:<strong> Season seven.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Spoilers for all of season six and seven.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Character death, pregnancy, alcohol abuse, lots of tears, unrequited love angsting, buckets and buckets of angst, etc. Some possible Leviathan!Dean/Ruby non-con, and other sensitive subject matter regarding domestic abuse and substance abuse. If there is anything else that you spot that you think needs to be warned for, I'll gladly add it. And there is one other thing that should be added to this list, but it would kind of spoil the entire story, so I won't be warning for it until right before it happens.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Title from the poem by e.e. cummings. This story is divided into sections. Each section has a different title, some from poems, some from songs.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

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><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

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><p><strong>Part One<strong>

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/I/

_i tell my love to wreck it all_

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The sun rises in South Dakota and the inside of the blindingly white hospital room glows as sunshine peeks through the flimsy curtains.

And Dean Winchester is left sitting stoically at a bedside with metaphorical blood on his hands. It is nothing new. Chaos has momentarily passed them by, and he has washed off all of the real blood on his hands, scrubbed until his hands were raw and he couldn't see straight, but the guilt still remains inside. Again; this is nothing new. The guilt_ always _remains.

Head bowed slightly, he clings to her hand like it's a lifeline, like it's the only thing keeping her here and focuses on the beeping of the heart monitor beside her bed. It's soft and steady like a lullaby, gentle and soothing, and it is proof that she's still here. That she's still with him. She's beat up, bruised, battered and bloody, but she's alive. She looks like she's taken the worst beating of her life, bruises littering her skin like writing, lacerations scarring her previously perfect skin forever.

He's about eighty three percent sure that at least two of the nurses think he did it. Given the circumstances, they are not completely wrong. He did cause some of those cuts and bruises. He did not, however, inflict the stab wound in her stomach that left her bleeding out on a dirty floor, unable to heal herself like she normally would.

It's not the worst beating she has ever taken. She's had worse. That's a given. She's had much worse. But those bruises had faded almost instantly and most of the blood shed from previous fights had been washed down the drain, leaving behind nothing but quickly healing wounds that didn't scar.

But now.

Now...

Well, things are different now, aren't they? Things won't ever be the same again.

Four and a half years. They've been together for four and a half years. In _four and a half years_, neither one of them have ever bothered to come up with an emergency contingency plan for situations like this. They are not prepared for this. This is a totally shocking, unforeseen, bizarre, wacked the fuck out turn of events. Nobody could have seen this one coming. Nobody ever could have predicted this because this wasn't supposed to happen.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and lets go of her hand, leaning back in his chair. He scrubs a tired hand over his face and keeps his eyes focused on her, even when the air in the room shifts in that all too familiar way. His breathing speeds up and his teeth clench together. His fingers curl tightly around the arm rests, so tightly his knuckles turn white. ''You _really_ don't want to be around me right now,'' he warns.

''Dean, I understand you're angry with me, but - ''

The chair scrapes back against the floor and Dean whips around, eyes flashing angrily. ''How could you do this?'' He demands, chest heaving. ''How could you do this to her?''

''I saved her life.''

''You _violated _her,'' Dean snarls.

Looking wounded, Cas takes a step back. He sends a glance at the body in the bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He sighs once, barely audible. ''I did what was necessary to save her.''

Dean closes his eyes briefly and has to rub at his tired eyes. Okay, look, his head is killing him right now, Ruby is unconscious in a hospital bed, and his daughter is probably scarred for life. He does _not_ want to have this argument right now. ''You didn't even ask her, Cas,'' he tries to explain tiredly, collapsing back in his chair. ''You didn't even warn her. You didn't warn me. She didn't _want _this. You turned her into something she doesn't know how to be.''

''For a very long time, all you two wanted was to be normal,'' Cas retorts, somewhat desperately. ''To be like everybody else. And now she can be.''

''Castiel,'' Dean says shortly. ''Being a demon was her livelihood. Being a strong leader, being able to turn off her emotions, to do things we could never do, being able to make the hard decisions...being able to protect our daughter better than anyone else out there... Those are the things she needs. Those are the things that make her who she is.'' He shakes his head and looks at the pale figure lying in the bed, her chest rising and falling steadily. ''And you took that away from her without giving her a choice. You made her _human_ without her consent. How do I even...'' He shrugs helplessly and can't bring himself to look at Cas. Not now. ''How do I know that the person who wakes up in this hospital bed is going to be my Ruby? Is it gonna be her, Cas? Or is it gonna be someone else entirely?''

''Maybe she isn't exactly like she was,'' Cas says quietly. When he moves closer to Ruby and places a hand on her forehead, Dean tenses and has to force himself not to push Cas away from her. ''But she is still Ruby. She still needs you. She's still going to _love _you...'' The tone of his voice is soft and sad, and leaves a lot of things left unsaid. Dean wonders, momentarily, if Cas is even still talking about Ruby. The angel draws his hand away from Ruby's forehead, fingers curling. ''She'll be fine. She should wake soon.'' Silence falls between them, uncomfortable and tense like never before. Cas keeps his attention on Ruby. His fingers brush her cheek gently and Dean looks away. He may not exactly be on Team Cas right at this moment in time, but Ruby will kill him dead if he kicks him out. There is something unspoken between Ruby and Castiel (an unspoken _DeanandSam _sort of thing) that Dean has given up trying to figure out. When Castiel's hand brushes lightly across her stomach, his entire body goes rigid and his lips part in something almost like shock. He lifts his gaze, eyes finding Dean's.

Dean jolts forwards, eyes narrowed in suspicion. ''What? What's wrong?''

Cas frowns, looks back and forth between Dean and Ruby for a moment, and then draws in a sharp intake of breath, shaking his head. ''Nothing.'' But he leaves his hand resting on her stomach for a moment too long, fingers splayed out across the hospital gown, and his lips are pursed in concentration.

Dean feels like there's something he is not being told.

''...I could have let her die,'' Cas says eventually, letting his hand fall away from her. There is a momentary pause, just a brief one, where Cas stares down at Ruby like she has all of the answers to the questions he's been asking. And then when he turns his attention back to Dean, he doesn't look so hurt anymore, frustration and rage clouding over in his eyes. Dean doesn't think he has ever seen him look so indignant. ''No,'' he says simply. ''You don't get to forsake me for this. I did what you could not. I saved her life, and I don't care whether or not you support what I did. I did what I had to do. I could have left her to die there,'' he repeats, more firmly this time. ''Could have left her to rot on that floor. Would you have preferred that, Dean? Would that have been all right with you?''

Dean swallows. ''I just wanted her to have a choice.''

''We don't always get a choice.''

Dean is silent for a long time, leaning forwards to take Ruby's hand again. ''I think you should go now.''

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_''Do you know what it's like when there are two demons inside of a human host, Dean? It is bloody uncomfortable, let me tell you.'' Grinning madly, the demon taking Ruby for a joyride kicks at Dean's prone form on the ground, crouching down and yanking him up by the collar of his jacket so that they're eye level. ''Hey, here's a question for you, big guy,'' it sneers. ''How exactly are you going to get rid of me?''_

_Bloody and beaten, Dean scowls at the thing, clenching his jaw tightly. ''Go to hell.''_

_''No, but seriously. Just think about it for a minute. Can't use her knife without killing her,'' it goes on, laughing jovially. ''Can't exorcise me without sending her straight back to Hell. Tell me, Rambo, what is your master plan this time? I mean, I'm kinda thinking you're screwed.'' Looking accomplished, it throws him backwards and laughs gleefully once again when he goes crashing to the ground._

_On the floor, Dean rolls onto his stomach and tries to forget all about the pain. He shakes it off and shifts his attention to the little girl in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest, her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut, tears running in rivulets down her cheeks. All right. Plan B. Get Lila Bray out. It's gotta be all about Lila Bray now. That's what Ruby would do. When he starts to crawl forwards, the demon tries to grasp onto his shirt. Trying not to look at the body he's fighting, he kicks the demon in the gut. It loses its balance, stumbling backwards, and that gives him just enough time to get to his daughter._

_She screams when he touches her, a mess of whimpers and sobs getting caught in her throat. ''Hey,'' he catches her flailing wrists, holding them tight. ''Lila Bray, it's me! It's Daddy, baby. Open your eyes.''_

_She cries out when she opens her eyes, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He rises to his feet with some difficulty, keeping a tight hold on his daughter, and when he whirls around to see if the demon is charging them, he turns just in time to see it go flying backwards through the air as if thrown by some unseen force. It lands in a heap, hissing angrily, and the door bangs open._

_When Dean sees Castiel standing in the doorway, he swallows. ''Lila Bray,'' he says slowly. ''Close your eyes.''_

_The demon tries to get up. Castiel throws his hand out and it falls back to the ground._

_''Cas,'' Dean chokes out. ''What are you - ''_

_Castiel turns his gaze to Dean. In less than a second, Bray has vanished from his arms and Ruby's knife is being yanked out of his pocket and is sailing through the air, right into Castiel's hands. ''Lila is with Sam now,'' Castiel says. ''It might be beneficial for you to wait outside.''_

_''I'm not leaving her.''_

_Castiel looks at him for a long time and it's terrifying how Dean can't even see him anymore. The demon rises to its feet finally and rushes Castiel. It happens too quickly for Dean to do anything. He makes a move for Castiel, but in the blink of an eye, Castiel is behind the demon, grabbing it from behind and sinking the knife into Ruby's stomach. He never even hesitates. Not once._

_''No!'' Dean's heart drops to his stomach and he shoves past Castiel, catching her as her body goes limp and slumps to the ground._

_She's making an odd sort of gasping noise in his arms and when her shaking hands go to the stab wound in her stomach, he holds her tighter, eyes burning. No. No, no, no, no. This can't be it. This can't be the way it ends. Not like this. One of her shaking hands presses against the wound, the other blood coated and shaking hand grasps at his shirt weakly. ''D-Dean,'' she slurs, breaths coming in pants. Her eyes blink open, filled with confusion and searing pain. There's blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. ''Dean...''_

_He's going to remember the way her voice sounds as she lies there dying forever._

_He whirls around to face Castiel, but there's no one there._

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He's right beside her when she opens her eyes, whispering words he hopes are soothing in her ear, brushing hair out of her face and kissing her forehead. He does his best to be comforting to her, treating her like she's a fragile piece of glass even though she has been fully healed. But when she asks what happened... When she asks what's happening to her... Why she's so groggy, why she feels so different...

He doesn't know how to answer her.

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/II/

_hey there, you with the stars in your eyes_

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Ruby knows that this is a game changer. It changes everything. It changes their whole entire life and the foundation that their life has been built on. She knows that this is big. It's huge. Monumental. She's human. _Human._ Her. There is a part of her that almost wants to laugh at that. It sounds so crazy. Like someone is playing a nasty prank on her. She's been made human by an all powerful angel in a trench coat. It's fucking _massive._

But to be perfectly frank, she doesn't care about any of it. She doesn't give a crap that she's human. She'll deal with that later. All she cares about right now is that little secret of hers that she's been keeping for over a month. (_Here is the deepest secret nobody knows... _She remembers that. She remembers reading that poem to Bray when she was a baby, her voice promising as she told the little girl, _I carry your heart - I carry it in my heart. I am never without it - Anywhere I go, you go, my dear._) If she is to wager a guess on her tiny little secret, her rough estimate would be around three months. If there is anything left to wager a guess on, that is.

It's another accident. Isn't everything with them? They were a little too careless and maybe a little too hungry one night, but she's not as freaked out as she was last time. She's more disappointed that she didn't get the chance to plan for it. Or she was.

Now she's just utterly terrified that there won't be anything left to tell.

She knows what happened to her. She remembers the possession, the kick to the stomach; she remembers the knife plunging into her abdomen, the explosion of pain so bad. A kind of pain she had never felt before. There is no way it could have survived all of that. Miracles like that don't happen in her life.

While she is sitting alone in a hospital bed, confused and devastated and _human_, she tries to think about what comes next. All of the grief and the guilt that will eventually hit her after the numbness and shock wear off. It's healthy to grieve. It's not healthy to bottle it all up inside. It's what she has told Dean over and over again. But grieving would involve telling Dean and then he will feel guilty and he'll cry and probably go get drunk and she cannot handle that right now. She can't.

So she goes to sleep instead. It's not hard. Mind numbing grief is tiring. Also, drugs. Drugs help too.

But then she wakes up in a darkened hospital room and there's a man standing by the window in the moonlight. Still a little groggy from all the drugs that have been pumped into her (and probably from the fact that her body is still getting used to being human again) she starts to gingerly sit up, only to fall back into bed when he says, ''Lie back down. You need to rest.''

''Castiel,'' she pleads.

''You're fine,'' he promises her. ''I healed you.''

''But - ''

''I healed_ everything_, Ruby.''

She lets out a breath and closes her eyes, collapsing heavily and running a hand through her greasy hair. Her eyes sting and her hands slide to her stomach. But when he looks at her, the relief coursing through her system drains, replaced by fear that she is going to lose him too. ''Castiel,'' she croaks out weakly. When he's close enough to her, she reaches out and grabs his arm, keeping him from floating away from her. ''Castiel, _please_... What's going on? What are you doing?''

''I wanted to see you,'' he tells her quietly. ''I wanted to tell you... I wanted you to know...'' But he never finishes his sentence, only shaking his head, looking, for a moment, quite stricken. ''Go back to sleep,'' he whispers. ''I shouldn't be here.''

''No, wait, please.'' Her eyes well up with tears and she sits up, trying to keep him from slipping through her fingers like he's already slipped through Dean's. ''Please...Please... Don't leave me. Don't make me lose you like I've lost everyone else. Please...''

He doesn't answer for a moment. ''You should tell Lila...'' He stops, swallows, and shakes his head. ''Don't tell her a thing. As she gets older, her memory will change. She'll forget. ...It's best if she forgets.''

''Forgets?'' She echoes bitterly. ''Forgets what, Cas? Forgets you?''

Instead of answering, he leans down to press a soft kiss to her forehead and says, ''Goodbye, Ruby.''

A sob gets caught in her throat and she reaches out to grasp onto the threads of his coat, but he's gone before she reaches him.

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When Dean comes to pick her up from the hospital, tired and weary, voice rough with exhaustion when he greets her with a tired smile and a sloppy kiss pressed to the side of her mouth, she looks right at him and says, ''I'm pregnant.''

He rears back in shock, stares at her with wide eyes, and stammers out a shocked, ''Oh.''

She nods, teeth sinking into her lower lip. ''Yeah.''

He clears his throat. ''How far along?''

''Three months.''

''Wow, that's...that's, uh...'' He clears his throat again. It's what he does when he doesn't know what to say. He drops his gaze to the floor for about a fraction of a second and then he looks up suddenly, something flashing through his eyes. ''Ruby, you were stabbed in the stomach. You were... _Jesus_, you were - ''

''I'm okay,'' she assures him quickly, small smile flickering across her face. ''We're okay. Cas... He healed us.''

Dean looks at her for a long time. She can almost see the wheels spinning in his head. After a moment of silent deliberation, he leans forwards and catches her lips in his own, one hand brushing across her stomach, the other cupping her cheek. ''Everything,'' he whispers when he pulls away, forehead resting against hers. ''Is going to be okay. It's going to be fine._ We're _going to be fine.''

He doesn't say it like a promise, she notices. He says it like a _wish._

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/III/

_what did my fingers do before they held him?_

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Life has never been easy, but this is a new low.

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Because of her brand new vulnerability, but mostly because she is pregnant, she is kept away from everything that happens with Castiel. She hates it, but her priorities need to be keeping Bray and the new baby safe. There is no other option. But she_ is _there when he slips away quietly, so quietly she almost doesn't believe it's happening.

She may still technically have leftover demonic essence coiled away in her veins, in her bloodstream, and holy water may still leave an unpleasant hiss of burning pain, but she is - right now - very much human. And she has learned a few things about being human over the past few days. Like how when you feel, you feel it all. Don't get her wrong, she felt plenty when she was a full fledged member of the demonic party. She has always felt. That is how she got here. But humans...

They'll feel until it hurts because they just can't help it.

Everything is magnified when you're a human. On the plus side, sex is like _whoa. _On the down side, unfortunately, sorrow is also magnified about a thousand times until she can barely breathe and she can't feel her fingertips. That part is..._unpleasant._

She is with him when he dies, fingers threaded through his in an attempt to make him _stay._ She has never told anyone else this out loud (although she doesn't think it's that much of a secret). She has told him, of course, but no one else because, even though she gets the feeling everyone knows, it is supposed to be something of _theirs._

Her and Cas? They're a lot alike. More so than either of them was comfortable admitting at first. Because of that camaraderie, he has become, over the years, the closest thing to a best friend that she has. Sam and Bobby are family, Bray and Dean are her life, but Castiel is her best friend. Dean has his Sam. Ruby has her Castiel. It is as simple as that. She won't know what to do with herself if he's gone. Just like Dean can't function properly without Sam, Ruby doesn't work without Castiel.

These are the lives they have built for themselves, the patterns they have sewn into their skin, the maps they have mapped out and tattooed on their flesh.

And she tells him all of this, she does. She whispers it in his ear fast and quiet while he's on the floor dying, and she calls him_ honey _and tells him _it's okay_, but it's not enough. It's not enough.

All he says is that he's sorry.

He's _sorry._

That says it all, really.

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_She supposes she is going to have to get used to Dean's new angel friend popping in whenever he feels like it. _

_Half of the time, she wonders if he is just lonely._

_Her eyes peer over the top of the baby book and she greets him, when he opens his mouth to speak, with a, ''He's in the shower.''_

_Castiel nods. ''Ah, yes. Well.'' He glances around the pathetically sparse motel rom. ''I'll just...wait here then.''_

_Her lips quirk. ''Whatever suits your fancy, wings.''_

_He stands there awkwardly for two minutes, looking as if he's unsure of the proper way to stand, and then she takes pity on him and his crooked tie. She has always been a sucker for awkward puppy dog eyed men. Heaving a sigh, she tosses her book aside, throws back the covers, and struggles to her feet. He tenses, a barely noticeable shift in his stance. She rolls her eyes. ''Oh, relax.'' She crooks a finger at him impatiently. ''C'mere.'' When he doesn't move, frowning at her suspiciously, she huffs and strides towards him. Her fingers instantly find their way to his tie, undoing it. He stiffens, but when she begins to re-tie it, he relaxes. ''Is your tie perpetually crooked?'' She asks. ''Is it like a fashion statement or something? Like the Michael Jackson one gloved hand thing?''_

_''I don't know who that is,'' he says slowly. ''Is he one of your kind?''_

_She lets out a small laugh. ''No.'' She expertly fixes his tie for him and when she's finished, she automatically smoothes down his shirt, forgetting for a moment that he is not Dean or Sam and he may not be completely comfortable with a demon touching on him. Yet. She will win him over, though. It's her new goal. She's very pregnant so she's not exactly in the thick of things, hunting wise, so she needs something to do. ''There you go.'' She offers him a bright smile in an attempt to squash the frown on his face. ''All fixed.''_

_She gets absolutely nothing in return. Okaaay. So the whole bonding thing maybe isn't going to happen right away. Hey, it was worth a shot. She pats him on the shoulder quickly and turns to go, determined to crawl back into bed, only to stop in her tracks when the baby lands a swift kick to her left kidney. She groans quietly, doubling over slightly with one hand on her stomach and the other grasping the table. Well. Thank God Dean wasn't here to see that. He would've had a fit. The man has gotten so paranoid lately. If she even as much as sighs, he'll be at her side within a second, demanding to know if she's okay. It's sweet, but really quite annoying._

_When she rights herself, taking in a long, slow calming breath, Castiel is standing right in front of her, looking down at her closely like he's trying to decode her and everything to do with her. ''Are you all right?'' He asks finally._

_She nods brusquely. ''Fine. Just a kick.''_

_He tilts his head to the side. ''Did you know that while pregnant, a woman's uterus grows to five hundred times it's normal size?''_

_She stares at him, jaw slackened. ''...Thank you,'' she squeaks, ''that's...vaguely terrifying. Anything else I should know?''_

_''During conception, certain sexual positions may determine whether or not you have a girl or a boy.''_

_''Huh.'' She nods. ''Well, this kid was conceived in the back of Dean's car and he was on top. What does that tell us? Actually, it was kind of strange because when we did the nasty in his car, usually I was on top.''_

_Castiel presses his lips together and looks at her through his eyelashes._

_She grins, laugh escaping her lips. ''You probably didn't need to know that.''_

_''No. Probably not.''_

_Another kick lands and her hand flies to her stomach out of instinct. He catches sight of the movement, eyes straying to her stomach. She spares a glance over his shoulder towards the bathroom door, where she can still hear the shower running, and then she sighs. One way or another, she is going to get Wings to look at her like she's something other than a nasty, filthy demon. Somewhat hesitantly, she takes his hand and places it on her rounded belly. ''Wait for it.'' She moves his hand, pressing her hand against his just as the baby delivers another kick to her insides. ''There.'' She gives him the most genuine smile she can muster up through her exhaustion. ''Did you feel that?''_

_He nods, eyes fixated on her stomach. ''Yes.'' He lets his hand fall away, looking up to meet her eyes. ''She seems to be very strong.''_

_''Well, no stronger than...'' She trails off and the bright smile drops off her lips in shock. She stares at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out if he realizes what he has just let slip, and her heart rate increases in her chest. A light blush creeps up in her cheeks and her throat closes up with all of the things she cannot name. Good things. ''She?''_

_He frowns at her. ''Did you not know?'' For a second, she swears he almost looks distressed by that. ''I apologize.''_

_''N-No,'' she hurries to reassure him, laying one hand on his arm without realizing what she's doing. ''Don't apologize. I'm just...'' She has to blink, one hand coming to rest on her stomach. A small, strangled sounding laugh tears out of her throat. ''It's a girl?''_

_He looks at her as if he wants to smile, but can't quite figure out how to do it. ''Yes. Your baby is a girl.''_

_Her eyes stray to her stomach and her cheeks burn with happiness. Somewhere in the distance, the squeaky shower tap turns and the sound of rushing water halts. Castiel perks up anxiously, looking over her shoulder at the bathroom door. He looks back at her one more time and she raises her eyes, catching his. She looks away first, opens her mouth to thank him, but when she looks back up, he's gone._

_A startled yelp echoes through the air, followed by Dean's protest of, ''DAMN IT, CAS! GET OUT! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT PERSONAL SPACE?''_

_Ruby laughs._

_Maybe it won't be so terrible with Wings around._

**end part one**

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><p><strong>AN: And there you have it. Part one. I know I haven't really touched upon the CastielRuby friendship that exists in this 'verse before, so I thought this was the perfect story to highlight it. What do you think? Any Cas/Ruby shippers out there? (Besides you, Kathey. I know you have a weakness for them, just like I do.)**

**Up Next:**

_The aftermath of losing one of their own._


	2. all right, my dear

_AN: All right, guys. Here's part two. This chapter is kind of on the short side, but I really wanted to end it at a specific point. Might have to give this chapter a bit of a tissue warning, by the way. There's definitely some heavy grieving going on._

_Oh! And Happy Birthday, Amanda! Today's your actual birthday so I thought I'd post this as a birthday present!_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

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><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

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/IV/

_it's getting late if you want to go home, all right, my dear_

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Leviathans do not merely _kill._

They do not wound, they do not scar, they do not cut, they do not possess. They kind of..._rip._ They see something or someone they want, they take, and then they proceed to rip everything all away, apart, into a million pieces. They leave bloodstains on everything they touch.

It's an unfortunate and bitter pill to swallow, but Castiel is no different.

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She may be human and therefore not as invincible as she once was, and she may be pregnant and therefore nauseous as hell, but as it turns out, she can still run pretty darn fast. That's really just an instinct.

See, here's the skinny: Ruby never - not once, not even _once _- stopped believing in Castiel. She'll admit that he went about things like a dumbass and he made bad choices, but doesn't everyone? Isn't that just part of life? (And okay, so maybe his choices were a little bit worse than parking in a handicap spot, but _still_.) Thing is, she honestly does understand why he did it. Hell, it's easy to understand _why _he did it. She just wishes he would have come to her before he went all _Godstiel._ She would've helped him. She would have friggin' dropped everything to help him. She could have _saved_ him if he had let her.

Ruby doesn't see the world the same way Dean does. She doesn't view the choices we make the same way he does. That's why their relationship works. It'd be boring if they were the same. Usually, the fact that they are so different yet so similar works in their favor, creating a weirdly healthy relationship among the ruins of everything else in their lives. _Usually _being the operative word.

You see, Ruby believed in Castiel until the very last second.

And that is more than Dean and Sam can say for themselves.

(She thinks, somewhat bitterly, that if anyone was going to understand why she continued to believe in Castiel, it would be Dean. After all, he'll never stop believing in his Sam, will he?)

Throughout the centuries she spent in Hell, she heard whispers of Leviathans. Just whispers. Nothing concrete, nothing tangible. Just hurried, scared whispers - rumors, really - that cut through the thick flames. They were the monsters that scared the other monsters. They were the demonic equivalent of The Boogeyman. So she knows how nasty they can be. How deadly they are. How dangerous they are. And she's human now. They could kill her with a twist of their wrists. But they're in Castiel right now. _Her _Castiel. They cannot have her Castiel.

So fuck it, she goes after them.

Unfortunately for her, Dean can run just as fast as she can.

''Ruby!'' He catches her at the water's edge, pulling her back literally kicking and screaming before she can launch herself in after NotCastiel. ''Ruby, fucking hell!'' He grunts and lets out a wheeze of pain when she elbows him in the gut, but he still does not let go. His grip on her wrist tightens to the point of pain and he spins her around to face him, tugging her into his chest. ''What the hell do you think you're - ''

''You don't understand!'' She pleads desperately, grasping at his arms. Her nails dig into his flesh. ''He can't swim! He can't swim, Dean! He never could a-and Jimmy never knew how to swim either and I was supposed to teach him - I promised him I would teach him after the war but I didn't a-and so he can't swim and I have to save him, Dean! I have to _save_ him!''

She never does get the chance.

.

.

.

There is grief.

And then there is Ruby.

This isn't grief, this isn't fear or distress or guilt, it isn't regret. It's fucking hysteria. She's not crying, she's not whimpering, she's not even blubbering. She's_ screaming_. Desperate howls and wails, her entire body spasming and writhing as she works to free herself from his hold on her.

Dean has honestly never seen her like this before. It's terrifying.

There is not one part of him that blames her.

_''Hey, look at me,''_ he remembers. _''It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam! Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain in the ass little brother?''_

Seconds before whatever the fuck the thing is that has stolen away Cas from him effectively explodes, Dean somehow manages to shove Ruby into Bobby's arms with firm orders to ''get her the fuck out of here now!''

It's a small comfort.

Nobody should have to watch their family die.

_''Sam? Sam! Sammy! No. No, no, no, no. Oh, god. Sam!''_

So how come he always has to do just that?

.

.

.

The coat is like a brother in arms.

Dean fishes it out of the water like he is fishing for gold, hefting it into his arms gingerly, carefully. He half expects the damn thing to pulsate beneath his fingers, to writhe, to thrive, something, anything to let him know that maybe Cas is still alive, tucked away in the threads of the trench coat that has never been _just a trench coat._ The article of clothing remains perfectly still under his fingers.

It drips.

Dean swallows thickly, breathes shallowly, and waits for it to pass.

(Walls, whether we make them ourselves or they are forged for us, are not meant to last forever. Sooner or later, the walls come crumbling down. You would think Dean would have learned that particular lesson by now.)

.

.

.

/V/

_if it's just you and me, trying to find the light_

.

.

.

All right, so here's the deal.

Dean is willing to admit to himself that he is currently on the brink, walking the lines between _not so much okay _and _in three seconds, I'm going to shoot myself in the face because I'm so tired and I just want to rest awhile._ He's primed for self destruction and he is not okay. In fact, he's so totally out of it in about a million different ways that it is amazing that he is able to function at all. But he knows he's fucked. That's the thing about a Winchester, you see.

Deep down, they know they're not okay. They're not fools, after all. They're just stubborn.

However, with that said, he is sane enough to realize that he is not the only one falling off the edge. Sam's own goddamned head is attacking him so viciously that Dean is legitimately afraid he's watching his brother implode. So that's not good. No. That's not good at all. And Ruby? Ruby, human and feeling it, took a crowbar to the bathroom mirror when she saw her human reflection for the first time, exactly the same only monumentally different. Where did she even get a crowbar? That's _really_ not okay.

Everybody's gonna explode one day. He can feel it. They don't have any trench coats to leave behind when they do.

.

.

.

When Dean walks into the house he shares with Ruby in Sioux Falls, the house that has slowly become_ home _over the past two years, he is quiet. His daughter is lounging on the living room floor, lying on her stomach while she feverishly draws a picture. He slowly lifts his eyes from the trench coat and stares at her for a minute, trying to drum up the energy to smile. He clears his throat and reluctantly drapes the coat over the back of a chair with an amount of care that even he finds strange. It's just a coat. (It's not just a coat. It's ashes.)

''Hey, sugar,'' he greets hoarsely. ''Where's your mom at?''

She shrugs as if she doesn't know, but answers, ''Mommy's in the bathroom'' as he bends down to kiss her cheek. She doesn't even look up from her drawing, too enthralled with the picture she's creating. (Dean feels a massive stab of pain when he sees that she's drawing an angel. Life a knife to the gut, for fuck's sake.) But she grins momentarily when the stubble on his face tickles her cheek. ''She's always in there,'' Bray goes on, letting out a put upon sigh. ''She's always _sick._ She says it's because of the baby.'' She wrinkles her nose suddenly, crayon halting on the paper. She looks up at her dad, serious expression on her face. ''Daddy, if the baby's just going to make her sick maybe you should give it back. Maisie's mommy says that babies are gifts. We should return this one.''

He laughs softly, even though he probably shouldn't. ''Sorry, Lila Bray. Babies aren't exactly the kind of gift you can return.''

She pouts.

''Don't worry,'' he tells her, tucking an errant strand of her blond hair behind her ear. ''Mom's going to be just fine and you're going to love being a big sister. Trust me.''

.

.

.

She's not in the bathroom puking her guts out when he finds her. No, 'cause that'd be too simple. A little morning sickness is nothing compared to the state he finds her in. He is not good with grief. He doesn't know how to make it go away. Why do you think he drinks so much? He finds her in their daughter's room, sitting stiffly on the pink bedspread, flexing her fingers like she's numb and she's just trying to make herself feel again. Her eyes are red and swollen and raw and so hollow that it actually physically hurts him like a punch.

He knocks on the door softly, she turns her head and when she spots the trench coat held with care in his hands, she positively folds into herself. She shrinks back and a keening cry tumbles through her lips as she turns her head, one shaking hand pressed to her mouth. He rushes forwards and then stops abruptly when he's in front of her. She has always been somewhat untouchable, all full of control and an intimidating comfort with the world around her.

This is different.

He's not even sure she's still in there at the moment. Gingerly, he sits down on the bed next to her and drapes the coat across their laps. ''Ruby...'' There should be more to that, but he doesn't know what words will make this better.

''He's...He's really gone,'' she whispers, voice hoarse from screaming and crying. She squeezes her eyes shut, breaths coming in strangled gasps.

He moves hair out of her face and leans in to kiss her neck. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. ''I'm so sorry.''

''What are you sorry for?'' She turns her empty eyes to him and he flinches. ''You lost him too.''

He inhales. He tries not to think about that.

''I can't even...'' She reaches one trembling hand up to swipe at her eyes, brushing away the fallen tears. Her hands fall back to the trench coat; her fingers running over the material like it's made of broken promises. (Kinda is, isn't it?) ''I can't even lie to myself,'' she whispers. ''Can't tell myself that it was quick, that he didn't suffer. ...Because it wasn't quick and he did suffer. I saw it in his eyes. And it didn't have to happen.'' She shakes her head. ''That's the worst part. None of it had to happen.'' He watches her bite her lip, her fingers curling into the coat, her unshed tears of regret as if she has personally failed her best friend, and it's Cold Oak all over again. ''Dean.'' she murmurs tiredly. ''Did you know...Did you know that whenever Bray couldn't sleep and she didn't want to bother us he would come and tell her stories and...'' Her voice cracks and she looks down, a few tear drops falling onto the coat. ''...And he would stay with her until she fell asleep.''

He can't respond for the longest time because there's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow down. ''No. ...I didn't know that.''

She nods. ''Me neither. She just told me the other day. She, um...She called it Cassy and Bray time.'' A laugh rips free and she brings the coat up to her face. ''Like before...when Sam would take her out for ice cream on the weekends, just the two of them and they would call it Sammy and Bray time. She's going to... I haven't told her yet. About Castiel... She loves him so much.''

She dissolves, crumpling and breaking and coming apart right before his eyes. She clutches the coat to her chest as she sobs and he hates that there is nothing he can say or do to make this better for her. For all of them. It's like pulling a thread. He can pull and pull and pull on the thing that doesn't belong, but when all is said and done, there won't be anything at all left over. Double edged sword. So he leans forwards, dipping his head to rest his forehead on her shoulder, one hand laid out on her stomach, on her barely there, not quite noticeable bump. And he tells her, ''I'm sorry'' again because it's the only thing there is to say. _''I'm sorry.''_ When he closes his eyes against the burning, against her shoulder that smells like cinnamon, all he can see is Cas.

What he doesn't say to her, what he'll never say to her, is that one secret that Cas made him promise to keep.

_You know he was in love with you, right, sweetheart?_

**end part two**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yep. Cas was head over heels. Poor guy.<strong>

**Up Next:**

_A more in depth look at Castiel's feelings for Ruby._


	3. and i'll say grace for where you are

_AN: I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow, but I couldn't help myself. Who else is excited for the Jersey Devil episode tonight? (Seriously, I've been waiting for Show to deal with Jersey Devils for years. The lore on these creatures is uber fascinating.)_

_Now, hopefully this sort of on the long side chapter will tide you over until the 25th, because that's when the next chapter will be posted. Real life is flaring up again. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three<strong>

.

.

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/VI/

_and i'll say grace for where you are_

.

.

.

Ruby may have been Castiel's other half, his partner in crime, his bestie for life, his fucking _soul mate_...

(Oh, god, was she his soul mate?)

But Dean was his goddamn friend too. And friends tell each other things. _Secrets. _So yeah, Dean knows a lot of things about Cas. Things that maybe no one else knows. Things that Ruby will _never _know. That is what friends are for, are they not? Keeping secrets?

Dean isn't being selfish, he's not. He's just being a friend. He's doing what Cas asked of him. That's not selfish.

Right?

.

.

.

_It happens on an otherwise dreadfully dull Wednesday night in mid November of 2011, just after Cas has popped back into their lives, picking up right where he left off with Ruby and their epic friendship to end all friendships. Ruby and Bray are out running a few last minute errands and Dean is in the kitchen making dinner, the television in the living room still blaring the Disney Channel from when Bray was last in there. The lasagna and the garlic bread are in the oven and he is in the middle of cutting up cucumbers for the salad that he will adamantly refuse to eat because if he wanted to eat leaves, he would have been a fucking rabbit, but he'll make the stupid salad anyway because Bray needs to eat vegetables and Ruby finds it impressive that he makes his own salad dressing regardless of whether or not he eats salad._

_What can he say? Cooking turns his girl on. Food in general turns her on. Yes, she's perfect. You jealous?_

_He deposits the cucumber into the salad bowl and reaches for the portabella mushrooms when the timer for the garlic bread goes off. Dean turns...and promptly lets out an embarrassingly unmanly shriek. Castiel, calm and unfazed, raises his eyebrows imploringly when Dean bends over, bracing himself on his knees, letting out a heavy breath, hand over his heart. ''I startled you.''_

_''Yeah, no shit,'' Dean grunts out._

_Castiel nods, processing that. ''My apologies.''_

_''Uh-huh. Dude, you're blockin' my garlic bread.''_

_Castiel blinks uncomprehendingly, frowns like he is trying to figure out if that is some sort of metaphor, looks behind him at the oven, and nods. ''Oh.'' He steps out of the way. While Dean is retrieving the garlic bread, Castiel is examining the kitchen oddly thoroughly, looking almost a little startled. He looks up at Dean, genuine surprise written all over his face. ''You cook.''_

_Dean arches an eyebrow and leaves the garlic bread to cool, slipping off the oven mitts and going back to the salad. ''Is that so surprising?''_

_''Given your past preferences for sustenance alarmingly high in trans fats,'' Castiel monotones. ''Yes.''_

_Dean hums in amusement, trying not to smile. ''Yeah, well, I have a kid who deserves better than Big Macs and microwavables.''_

_''So you learned to cook for Lila?''_

_''No. I taught myself to cook,'' Dean corrects. ''For Sam.'' He tosses the mushrooms into the salad bowl, snatching up a red bell pepper for color because Bray's going through a weird and unexplainable stage where if there isn't enough color on her plate, she won't eat anything. ''Somebody had to,'' he mutters under his breath. When he doesn't get a response, he glances over his shoulder to check on Cas and has to dive forward just in time to slap Cas' hand away before he pokes at the garlic bread. ''No touching,'' he scolds. ''It's hot and I don't know where your fingers have been.''_

_Cas retracts his hand, but doesn't look happy about it._

_''What are you even doing here?'' Dean asks, not unkindly. ''Don't you have an entire Heaven to run?''_

_''Yes,'' is the immediate response. ''But...'' The angel shifts, suddenly looking awkward. Not that that is extremely unusual. ''I've recently been experiencing some strange emotional...oddities. I've been bogged down by the most unpleasant sensation of isolation and solitude.''_

_Dean stares at him blankly. It takes a second. ''Oh!'' He nods. ''You're lonely.''_

_Again, Cas looks quite awkward, dropping his head in apparent shame. ''Yes.''_

_''Well, why didn't you just say so?''_

_''...I did.''_

_''Cas,'' Dean laughs and strides forwards to put his hands on the angel's shoulders. ''Would you like to stay for dinner?''_

_''I don't require - ''_

_''Just say yes.''_

_''Oh. All right then.''_

_''Great.'' Dean claps his friend on the arm and hands him a stack of dishes and cutlery. ''You can set the table.'' He turns his back for less than two minutes, just long enough to take a peek at the lasagna and when he turns back, Cas is right in front of him, hands empty. ''Wha...?'' Dean peers around Cas into the dining room, where the table is now immaculately set, dishes gleaming in the light coming from the lit candles on the table. ''That's cheating,'' he says eventually. ''I never said you could use your angel mojo.''_

_''Yes, but you never said I couldn't,'' Cas counters, looking unabashedly proud of himself._

_''Touche. Two steps back please.''_

_Cas obliges, taking two steps back and giving Dean his personal space back. ''If you don't mind me asking,'' he starts conversationally, looking around searchingly. ''Where is - ''_

_''She and Lila Bray ran out to run a few errands. She'll be back soon.''_

_With a curt nod, Cas plucks a stray bay leaf from the counter and sniffs at it curiously, instantly making a face. ''That's fine.'' He twirls the bay leaf. ''...How is she?'' He ventures hesitantly._

_Dean looks up from whisking the salad dressing momentarily. ''Why don't you ask her yourself?''_

_''Things are not...'' He breaks off, brow furrowing as he looks around in his brain for the words he needs. ''...The same. Between Ruby and I.''_

_''She thinks they are.'' He looks up once again and rolls his eyes, reaching out to smack the bay leaf out of Cas' hand before he stuffs it in his mouth like an oversized curious toddler. ''Don't put that in your mouth, you freak.'' He shakes his head and goes back to tossing the salad, grumbling under his breath. ''I swear it's like taking care of a giant two year old.''_

_Cas slouches down in a chair on the other side of the island. His elbow rests on the counter top, head in the palm of his hand. He looks, for all the world, like a lovesick puppy dog teenage boy with his first crush. Oh, god. This is it, isn't it? This is the conversation Dean has been dreading since he first saw that familiar look in his friend's eyes. _

_He first noticed it when Zachariah sent him into the future. The 2014 Dean was a dick with no time for his family, indifferent to his daughter and resenting Ruby for reasons Dean still doesn't understand. 2014 Ruby was jaded and bitter and hated him with every fiber of her being, which stung like a bitch, but it was stoner Cas who really freaked Dean out. He looked at Ruby with those straight from a John Hughes movie adoring eyes and it was unnerving. It was painfully obvious in 2014, so naturally, when Dean got back, he kept his eyes trained on Cas, watching his interactions with Ruby carefully. Those feelings don't come out of nowhere, after all. If it was true, he told himself, there would be signs._

_And boy were there ever signs._

_Ruby didn't - and still doesn't - notice a single one of them. Man, he loves her and all, but she has a tendency to see only what she chooses to see, doesn't she?_

_''If I'm being honest,'' Cas sighs out, gravely serious. ''Things haven't been the same since - ''_

_''Since you realized you're in love with her?''_

_Oops._

_The timer for the lasagna dings._

_''Dude, come on. Don't look so shocked.'' Dean laughs at the dumbfounded expression the angel is throwing at him, slipping on the oven mitts. ''I know what being in love with her looks like.''_

_''I'm not in love with her,'' is the instant denial._

_''You're not?'' Dean puts the lasagna down on the stove with perhaps a little too much force. ''So you don't think about her all the time? There isn't a twisting in your gut when you see her, like something is trying to get out? You don't feel that spark when she touches you? You don't feel empty when you're not with her? Like there's a hole in your stomach? Like if you don't see her again, if you don't hear her voice, that gnawing, gaping, raw and bloody hole will only get bigger and bigger until there's nothing left? You don't feel any of that?''_

_The expression on Castiel's face says it all._

_Dean chuckles again, more forceful this time. Fake. ''Yeah,'' he nods. ''That's what it feels like. Ain't love grand?''_

_''Dean,'' Cas says, pleads. ''I had no intentions of - ''_

_''Shut up.'' Dean holds up a hand. ''I know that, moron. I trust you. And even if I didn't, I trust her. But let's get one thing straight. You're hopelessly ass backwards in love with my girl. Like, fell-damn-hard love. The least you can do is be honest with me about it.''_

_''You're right.'' He bows his head. ''I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I...I truly don't...understand how any of this could have happened. Why it was her. It shouldn't be her.'' He looks lost, staring down at his hands as if he's drawn a map on the palm of his hand with invisible ink, a guideline for how to have this conversation. (Dean would love to read from a script for a conversation like this.) ''I only tolerated her,'' Cas insists, shaking his head. ''I tolerated her for you. Because she was yours. Because she always will be. And then she started teaching me things. How to live. How to feel. How to be human. How it felt. And she became my friend. But then...'' He stops suddenly, looking up at Dean curiously, head tilted to the side. ''How do you feel when you look at her?''_

_''How do I...?'' Dean shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably and wishes there was something else to take out of the oven. He licks his lips. ''I don't know,'' he murmurs hoarsely. ''Happy, I guess. Yeah.'' He clears his throat with a firm nod. ''Happy. Content. Peaceful. It's not something that's easily described, Cas. I feel...still. Like it all evens out and stands still when I'm with her.'' That's putting it much too simply. Makes it sound too technical. There is no way, truthfully, to describe the way he feels when he looks at Ruby. He could drown in her. He could drown in her and be perfectly content with his fate. That's how he feels._

_Cas nods distractedly. ''When I look at her,'' he starts, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, big blue eyes glistening in confusion and hopelessness. He picks his words out carefully, arranging them just so. ''...I spin away.'' Quite abruptly, the expression on his face shifts to one of desperation and helplessness. ''It is all consuming,'' he says, distressed. ''I don't like it.''_

_Absently, Dean reaches across to pat Castiel's hand. ''Nobody does.''_

_Cas looks away. ''I will bury it,'' he promises, interrupting Dean before he can offer any other half hearted words of comfort. ''You have nothing to worry about. For her...I suspect it will always be you.''_

_Dean says, again, ''I trust you, Cas.'' He thinks it's important._

_''You can't tell her,'' Cas whispers, sounding ragged and tired. He still won't meet Dean's eyes. ''You can't tell her any of this. Promise me.'' He looks up at Dean with huge, pleading eyes. ''You have to promise me, Dean. She can never know.''_

_And Dean says, ''I promise,'' because that's what friends do and because maybe there's a tiny part of him that is just so, so desperate to keep her._

.

.

.

Love is painful.

If it's not painful, if there isn't at least a little bit of a sting, then it's not love. But there is something about unrequited love that just hurts so much more. It's a wound that won't heal because the stitches keep getting ripped and the scabs keep getting picked at. It is a desperate, all consuming form of love that never goes away. And it is there every second of every day, and even if you could, even if you had the chance, you wouldn't make it go away because it may hurt like a bitch, but it makes you feel alive.

That is what unrequited love is.

It is, as clichéd as this is going to sound, the song that never ends.

Yes, it goes on and on, my friend.

.

.

.

/VII/

_down here the sky is always falling_

.

.

.

The world, as it would seem, has a sick obsession with kicking them while they are down. (It's a form of bullying, really. The universe is a bully. A big, mean bully.)

Dean pretty much knows this already. He has a file in his head marked 'All the Times You Were Fucked Over Because the Man Upstairs Has a Huge, Throbbing Hate On For You' and it is thicker than a phone book and twenty times more durable. He has evidence that the world does not like them and is not indifferent towards them, but legitimately_ hates _them.

Eh, whatever.

If he didn't have a daughter who smiles sunshine and makes him want to vomit rainbows, he might mind more. As it is, he's actually weirdly fine with the world fucking him over. As long as he's got his girls and his Sammy and Bobby, he's dancin' on clouds. (A few weeks ago Cas woulda been on that list too. Let's not go there.)

Apparently the world is not okay with him feeling content because then there's this:

Bobby's house is left in ruins, charred and destroyed, the only true home he has ever known reduced to nothing more than burnt ash and broken structures.

That ain't even the worst part.

Dean can't be sure, you see, but he thinks his family (Bobby, Ruby, Lila Bray - andohgod_LilaBray_) was in that house. His head starts to spin, churning and lurching like he's on the spin cycle. Sam's saying something, mouth moving, but Dean can't hear a word. He can't see straight, there's an ear splitting ringing in his head and he's positive he's going to throw up. But then it passes and he's just left _tired._ In the span of about a minute, he goes from wanting to howl and cry and vomit to just being tired. It's everything. It's life. He's being _crushed._

He stares at the remnants of home, wheels slowly beginning to turn in possibly the darkest direction they have ever turned in. His daughter was in that house. His _baby girl_. ...Okay then. _All right. _His fingers twitch, snaking towards his gun.

Sam looks petrified. ''Whoa, whoa! Dean!'' He lunches, practically diving over the hood of the Impala to half tackle his brother, pinching and elbowing until he wrestles away the gun. ''Dean, wait! Wait a minute!''

Dean stares back at his brother with deserted and empty eyes, feeling as lifeless as the carnage in front of him. ''Why?'' He blinks. ''You wanna go first?''

Sam sucks in a breath, looking utterly terrified. ''Listen to me,'' he says quietly. ''Okay? Are you listening? We don't even know they were in there, Dean. What if they got out? Look, chances are they did, right? We need to get our facts straight before we go offing ourselves.''

Dean nods numbly. ''And if they were inside?''

Sam goes rigid. ''...Then I'll go first.''

''...Sammy...''

Suddenly, Sam looks like he wants to cry. ''Yeah,'' his strained voice whispers. ''Dean...''

''Check the house,'' Dean orders gruffly, pushing himself away from his brother, fumbling for his phone despite the fact that he can't feel his hands. ''I have to do something.''

.

.

.

Dean leaves Bobby a frantic and too gruff voicemail, terror racing through his bloodstream like a deadly toxin. But when he calls Ruby...when he calls Ruby...

''You listen to me,'' he hisses into the phone, his entire body stiffened in fear and frustration. ''You fucking listen.'' He rubs at his aching head and looks over his shoulder. He pushes away from the Impala and turns down a row of cars, trying to get lost. ''I'm gonna marry you.'' It comes out as a growl, intensified more than it should be by panic that keeps getting worse and worse. ''I don't give a shit if you're scared of marriage. If you want to wait. I don't care. I'm done waiting for you, you hear me? We're going to get married and we're going to have another baby - we talked about it, do you remember that? Right before Sam came back...came home...before everything started _again_... We were talking about trying. You wanted a little boy and I wanted another little girl - and Lila Bray is...Lila Bray is...''

Winded, he has to lean back against an old and rusted car, fighting for breath.

''Do you even realize? Do you know how much I love you? You have no idea, do you? You have no idea how much.'' He has to stop to breathe, rubbing at his eyes. ''No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to leave me here. They're not gonna take you away from me. You're fucking...You're fucking _mine_.'' He has to stop. His eyes are wet. There are so many things he isn't saying. Can't get them out around the rock in his throat. Read between the lines. Between the silences. That's where they are.

_You're air, _he doesn't say. _I am nothing without you._

The gravel crunches behind him and he whirls around. Sam doesn't say anything; instead he shifts from foot to foot and presses his fingers into the palm of his hand, into the wound. He looks like a lost puppy. ''I didn't hear anything,'' he says finally. ''...I didn't hear anything.''

(Liar.)

.

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/VIII/

_medicate me so i die happy_

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.

.

Dean hates drugs; they scare him. They're too unpredictable, too messy, too dangerous. They're an unwelcome liability in his line of work. Or at least that's his story. The real reason he hates drugs is a bit more on the bleak side of things. Drugs scare him - petrify him, really - because he knows for a fact that if he took a painkiller just because, he wouldn't be able to stop. He has issues with chronic self-medication. It's about patterns.

(He is an _addict. _Jesus, at least say the damn word.)

The only reason he is not self-medicating with more than alcohol - the only reason - is his daughter. He won't do that to her. He refuses to be that man. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than a filthy, pathetic addict for a father. (_Too late, you big ole' barfly, _a nasty voice in the back of his head sneers at him.)

His gut reaction when he wakes up, vision cloudy, voice slurred, drugged out of his gourd, is to fight it. He can't think straight. Everything's hazy and slow and the lights are too bright.

And then they set his leg.

...Doesn't feel too great.

He has to go. He's gotta get out of here, away from them, to Sam, because they're demons. He's sure of it. But they push him back down and won't let him get away. He thinks he might be dying. They're leviathans, they are not to be trusted, and they are going to eat him. But Lila Bray was in that piece of fucking fire broiled house and he remembers that so...

_Eat me, bitches. Fucking see if I care. Just make it snappy, you fuglies._

But then he wakes up - and _fuck_, he _wakes up._

He was hoping he wouldn't.

He's still drugged when he wakes up, lost somewhere in a morphine fog, but it doesn't feel as good as it should. It's all still excruciating. (He's not talking about the leg.) If he wanted to, he could kill himself by self-administering an IV improperly and sending an air bubble straight to his heart. He could do it. He has the tools. But foggy and pained as he may be, he still knows he has to get to Sammy.

It is the one thing he will _always _know.

.

.

.

He's still so out of it that it's not even funny (and more than half of it ain't even from the drugs anymore) but he does sober a bit when he's standing in his garage with his unconscious fucked up brother in the back of a stolen ambulance and he still doesn't know where Ruby and Bray are. They need to get out of town if they want to heal in relative safety, but Dean isn't going anywhere without his kid and Bobby isn't going anywhere without Dean.

They are at an impasse.

It's extremely distressing to learn that Bobby doesn't know where Ruby is either. At this point in time, Dean is counting bullets. He's ready to swallow one. He doesn't think anybody should ever be this _ready_ to_ die._

In his kitchen, he and Bobby are at a stalemate, air so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. In between grim arguments about looking for bodies and the logistics of suicide, the door opens. The door fucking _opens. _Dean almost falls to his knees and weeps in relief.

Ruby walks slowly into his line of vision, Bray in her arms, breathing heavy, eyes red. She looks ready to tear him apart. He doesn't even care. Let her. It means she's still here. ''What,'' she speaks quietly, careful not to wake the slumbering child in her arms. ''Is wrong with you? I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you don't get to fucking pull that shit with me anymore.'' She's too angry to even notice that there are two men staring at her like she's a goddess. ''I had no idea where you were. I thought you were fucking _dead_.'' She spots the cast on his leg. ''And what happened to your - ''

All energy and strength drains out of him, leaving behind someone who is drugged and running on fumes and ready to drop. He drops the crutches, pushes himself towards her and flattens her, kid and all, against the wall, burying his face in her hair. Bray stirs, letting out an annoyed whimper. Ruby would yell and scream, he knows she would, but he thinks the fact that he's sobbing - literally _sobbing_ - into her hair is keeping her silent, body tensed in worry.

''Dean,'' she murmurs. ''Dean...''

She doesn't say anything else.

**end part three**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Poor everybody. I am putting them all through hell, aren't I? Initially, I wasn't going to have Cas just openly admit his feelings for Ruby. It was pretty much just going to be an assumption on Dean's part. But the way I see it, there are things that Castiel will keep from Dean and things that he won't. I think he would want to be honest with his friend about this. He'd want him to know that he values their friendship too much to ruin it.<strong>

**Up Next:**

_The Winchester and Co relocate temporarily. Plus, another flashback._


	4. moon river and me

_AN: And here we go! The latest chapter! Once again, this is up earlier then I thought it would be. I was going to post it on the 25th, but screw it. This one has got some heavy stuff going on in it, which I suppose is relatively unsurprising for this story. Just a warning, the rating has gone up for this story. The rating has gone up to M as of right now. The reason for that is, um, some things are about to get a bit graphic and intense. The events that are going to take place in the near future might make some people uncomfortable. I will be warning for that twist when it happens, but right now it's kind of under wraps._

_Before we go on, let me just say a big and loud Happy Early Birthday to Katie Cassidy, who turns twenty five on the 25th and an extra loud Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends. I hope you all have a great holiday. Hope you all eat a lot and make great memories. _

_So, I'm curious, what are you guys thankful for? I am, of course, thankful for family and friends and good health and all that jazz. But I'm also thankful to and for you guys! You guys are so loyal and amazing to me. You know, you hear a lot of bad things about the Supernatural fandom, and sure there are some bad eggs out there, that's really just inevitable in a fandom so large (and in charge), but you guys have made my experience truly wonderful. I can't thank you enough for that and I'm sure I'm going to carry the memories of my time in the SPN fandom with me for the rest of my life. I am thankful for all of you and I just wanted to let you all know how much I adore you. The consistent support and reviews I get from you guys never fails to astound me. You guys make my every day and I want you to know that. I wish I could hug you all!_

_I know that sounds like some sort of goodbye, but it's really not. Someday I will be moving on. That's just a fact. And I'm not sure when it will be. It could be at the end of this year. It could be next year. (I am sort of thinking the most likely scenario is that next year will be my last year.) Could be in five years. Ten years. Whatever. At some point, I will be saying goodbye to this fandom and when that time comes, I just want you all to know how much I love and appreciate you._

_Geez! Sorry! Did not mean for this AN to be so freaking long!_

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four<strong>

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.

.

/IX/

_we'll drag our bodies here_

.

.

.

They take refuge in a cabin in Montana that used to belong to Rufus Turner. (By the way, Bray thinks Whitefish, Montana stinks. She makes that clear immediately, pouting and whining and kicking the seats the entire drive there.) Grief that hasn't gone away - won't ever go away - washes over Bobby's face like shadows the minute he flips on the light switch. Ruby sees it in his eyes plain as day. But he doesn't say anything and nobody asks, so they move on.

The cabin is small and cramped as it is, but with five people living there it's pure hell. There are two bedrooms - and one of them doesn't have any windows so she's betting it wasn't actually meant to be a bedroom - so Bray and Ruby take one, Bobby and Sam take turns with the other, alternating between bed and floor, and Dean and his cast take the couch. It's not ideal. Far from it. But it's all they've got.

Besides, it's just until Dean gets the cast off, and then...

...Then what? Then they'll go on the road and hunt big bad Leviathans with a three year old in the backseat? They haven't thought this through.

(Actually, they have. That's the problem. They've worked their way through every plan and only one option remains. At some point, sooner rather than later, especially with the new baby coming...Dean is going to have to walk away.)

.

.

.

Ruby is convinced life is trying to drown her.

The first few nights (read: the first _week_) at the cabin are the worst. Bray, heartbroken and homesick, keeps waking up scared in the middle of the night, not knowing where she is or why her Uncle Cas won't come when she calls. For a week straight, it's the same nightly routine. She'll wake up in the middle of the night, whisper a prayer for Castiel that never gets answered, and then she just wants her daddy so she pads barefoot out into the living room, shakes him awake and demands he come back to bed with her. When he patiently explains he can't, she cries. She winds up sleeping with him on the couch for three nights in a row, leading to an incredibly cranky three year old with a sore neck the next day.

That's bad enough. Unfortunately, it gets worse. Ruby's list of troubles is a mile long and doesn't end with her daughter's pleas to go home.

Dean won't stop bitching about his broken leg and how uncomfortable the couch is, Sam's got Lucifer in his head and there's that thing with the hand, which she does not fully understand - but okay; whatever works - she misses Castiel so much it hurts and half the time she doesn't know what to do with herself, and this pregnancy is anything but smooth sailing. At nearly fifteen weeks pregnant, she is still suffering from the morning sickness from hell and it does not seem to be slowing down a bit, which means that the time that is not spent trying to keep Bray entertained is usually spent hugging the toilet bowl.

(And on top of it all, she's developing an extremely unhealthy addiction to Spanish soap operas.)

But wait.

There's more.

Strange and unexplainable things are not so strange and unexplainable in her life. Weird is pretty much the norm for her. It takes a lot to shake her. But lately something is happening. Something odd. She doesn't know if it's happening to her or just in general, but it's there and it's starting to truly scare her.

It starts with little things.

Objects won't be where she left them, the window in the bedroom is open one night when she wakes in the middle of the night and she doesn't remember opening it (but it was probably Bray, right?) and she gets an electrical shock one day when she opens a cupboard in the kitchen. Nothing major. Just little things. But then it gets more noticeable. Missing objects seem to appear out of nowhere when she calls for them, a dish spontaneously breaks when she gets into an argument with Dean, the lamp beside her bed flickers when she climbs into bed at night.

And one night, she has to stop pretending.

The cabin is old and has faulty wiring so every now and then, the power will go out for a little while and they'll be stuck in candlelight, bundling Bray in layers of clothing so she won't get cold during the chilly nights. It's not a_ huge _problem, per se. They cope. Although, it is fucking annoying. One night, the power blinks off and while Dean is helping Bray into her purple and white teddy bear sweater (it's an atrocious sweater, in all honesty, but Bobby - bless his heart - got it for her on her third birthday and for some reason, Bray just _adores_ the piece of fashion roadkill) and Sam and Bobby are in search of more candles, Ruby is fumbling around in the dark, looking for a lighter or some matches. Frustration growing, she starts mumbling under her breath, meaningless grumbles about how nobody puts anything back where it belongs and _all she wants is a damn light._

When she finally finds the lighter, triumphant smile of victory gracing her lips, she turns around to light the candles and instantly startles. A quiet gasp escapes her lips and she presses herself back against the counter in surprise. A candle flickers on the table in front of her, bright flame dancing in the dark. She looks down at the unlit lighter in her hand that feels way too heavy. Her heart is pounding in her chest, adrenaline pumping. (And she's not even sure why.) She glances around the room to see if anybody else noticed that.

Sam and Bobby are still yanking open drawers, searching around desperately for more candles and Dean is just managing to help Bray untangle herself from her sweater.

Ruby takes a deep breath and tries to calm down, placing a hand over her heart.

Well, it's official.

She can't ignore it anymore.

She's being haunted.

(Three guesses. You get three guesses.)

.

.

.

Later that night, when she's sure everyone is asleep, she slips out the front door and stumbles through the darkness towards the Impala, keys dangling limply in her hand. She pauses before she opens the trunk, pressing her lips together tightly.

It's not possible. It can't be. (Everything about his death was unnecessary and violent, but she needs to believe he's at rest. That he's at _peace._) She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, lets out a shaky breath and heaves open the trunk. Underneath guns and ammo and cans of salt, the trench coat lies sullenly in the middle of it all.

(Sometimes, as we all know, spirits - _ghosts_ - attach themselves to objects that meant something to them in life.) Her hands tremble as she slowly lifts the coat from the back of the car. ''Castiel,'' she whispers quietly. ''You can't do this. You know you can't.'' She runs her fingers over the jacket and swallows hard, leaning heavily against the car. ''You have to let go now. You have to rest. I need you to rest.''

It's about unfinished business. It's always about unfinished business. Making amends. Finding redemption. Seeking forgiveness. Saying goodbye.

Except what if it's _not?_

What if it's about love?

(Oh, come on. You really think she didn't at least suspect?)

.

.

.

/X/

_moon river and me_

.

.

.

_Another loud clap of thunder booms violently outside the window and lightning streaks across the sky menacingly. In her little pink princess bed, Bray is whimpering in fear, little fists clenched around her Little Mermaid comforter. She pulls the blanket up to her chin unhappily as her mother holds her hands over her ears in an attempt to lessen the deafening booms of thunder. With the phone held between her shoulder and her ear, Ruby slowly removes her hands from over her daughter's ears and reaches up to grasp the phone. ''Dean, are you sure you're okay to drive in this?'' She's asking quietly, one hand stroking Bray's hair absently. ''...Okay,'' she sighs. ''Well, don't rush, all right? Just get home safely. ...Yeah, she's right here. She wants to talk to you.'' She holds the phone away from her ear and smiles big for Bray, thrusting the phone at her. ''Here, baby. Daddy wants to say goodnight to you.''_

_Reluctantly loosening her death grip on the blanket, Bray accepts the phone from her mother, blinking back tears and rubbing her runny nose. ''Daddy,'' she mumbles. ''I want you to come home now.'' There's another crack of thunder that sounds before Ruby has a chance to cover Bray's ears, followed by a spooky streak of lightning that sends cold light spilling throughout the room. Bray shrieks and dives under her comforter with the phone, her voice shaking as she somewhat incoherently begs and pleads with Dean to get home now._

_Ruby sighs and leans back against the wall, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. She is so past the point of tired right now that it's not even funny. She's been exhausted these past few days and all she really wants to do is go to sleep. She's not sure when Bray's fear of thunderstorms started. When she was a baby, she never minded them and she loves the rain even now. It's the thunder that scares her. On stormy nights, she always winds up huddling under the blankets in her parents' room. This night does not seem to be breaking that pattern. _

_Ruby rakes a hand through her hair and tries to keep her eyelids open. She can hear Bray talking a mile a minute to Dean, still hidden away safely under her blanket fort. ''Bray,'' she yawns, reaching out to touch the lump under the mound of blankets. Thunder crashes. Bray whimpers noisily and Ruby winces. Oh, nice timing, thunder. ''Baby, you gotta let Daddy go now. He can't talk very long. He and Uncle Sammy have to get on the road.'' _

_No response. _

_''...Bray?'' _

_The lump ignores her. ''Uh-huh,'' she's mumbling. ''I know, but... BUT IT'S SCARY, DADDY!''_

_Ruby draws back, startled. Her girl's got volume._

_''...Yeah...Okay,'' Bray huffs out. ''Promise though, okay? You hafta promise. I want you to get here really fast, 'kay? 'Cause it's really scary. ...Mmmhmm... I will... Love you too... Yeah, 'member really fast, o-okay? ...Bye.'' A little head of disheveled blond hair pokes out from underneath the covers and a hand shoots out to give Ruby the phone back. As quick as she appeared, Bray disappears back under the covers once again. ''Daddy says that you gotta let me sleep in your bed and watch movies 'till I fall asleep. But__** not **__Bambi. Bambi's mommy dies and that's __**sad**__.''_

_A smirk crosses Ruby's lips and she peels back the purple comforter to stare at her little girl, who is blinking up at her owlishly with big doe eyes, looking innocent as can be. ''Did Daddy really say that?''_

_''Yes,'' Bray responds indignantly, rubbing at her red eyes._

_Ruby stares at her._

_Bray folds. ''...No.''_

_With a shake of her head, Ruby hops off the bed and holds out a hand. ''You can sleep with me tonight, but no movies. It's already late enough. And you can't hog the bed. Your dad will be home later and he's not gonna sleep on the floor. Deal?''_

_Bray nods, sniffles and holds her arms out. ''Carry me.''_

_Too tired to argue, Ruby simply rolls her eyes and heaves her daughter into her arms. Bray has a vice like grip, hiding her face in her mom's hair as soon as she's lifted off the bed. Wow, she has serious thunderstorm issues, doesn't she? The second she and her armload of stuffed animals are deposited onto her parents' bed, she skitters under the covers like a little bug and begins to mutter to herself, voice muffled._

_Ruby's lips turn up. ''Baby, if I go to the bathroom are you going to be okay?''_

_The blanket moves._

_''Bray, you have to use your words. I can't see what you're doing.''_

_''...I'll be okay,'' Bray promises in a whisper._

_''You're sure?''_

_''Just hurry.''_

_''Two minutes.''_

_Of course when Ruby returns to the bedroom, clicking off the bathroom light and smoothing down her old, ratty t-shirt, she fully understands Bray's lack of protesting. Apparently her kid's version of being okay involves - _

_''Cas.''_

_Ruby stops in her tracks._

_''Daddy said to call Uncle Cas if I got scared.'' Bray shrugs, unconcerned. ''...I got scared.''_

_Ruby figures this would be the part where the logical thing to do would be to scold her daughter for wasting Castiel's time. But Bray is giddy and Cas has already draped his trench coat over the back of a chair, lounging comfortably on the bed with his ankles crossed. She melts and can't help but smile. Gliding forwards, she places one hand on Castiel's cheek, running her fingers through Bray's hair with the other. ''What am I going to do with you two?''_

_._

_._

_._

_After Bray is asleep and after the storm has passed, thunder rolling away, noisy pitter patter of rain on the windows easing up, Castiel rises to his feet and slips back into his coat with a quiet, ''I should go.'' Half asleep, she frowns and lifts her head slowly to look him over. He's practically been ignoring her all night, not meeting her eyes, keeping his attention all on Bray. ''Do you think she'll be all right?'' He continues, nodding towards Bray, fast asleep and taking up most of the space on the bed, as she tends to do._

_Bleary eyed and not quite awake, Ruby glances at the clock on the bedside table. Jesus Christ, it's almost two in the morning. She swings her eyes back to the angel, who is currently meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles on his jacket, frowning deeply when he picks a piece of lint off of it. (Sometimes she thinks his freaking Grace has been folded into that trench coat.) In the darkness, she thinks he might look a little pale. ''Yeah,'' she mumbles, voice hoarse. ''She may have a hard time getting to sleep, but once she's out, she usually sleeps like a rock.'' Pulling back the covers, she staggers out of the bed and over to him, grasping the sleeve of his jacket. ''And you,'' she starts. ''Need to come with me.''_

_''Ruby, you should sleep.''_

_''Nope. We need to talk.'' She drags him out of the bedroom and into the quiet, darkened hallway. And he still won't look at her. It's pissing her right off. ''Okay.'' She folds her arms across her chest. ''Talk to me, wings. You've been brooding like a Winchester all night. What's going on?''_

_''I don't know what you're talking about.''_

_''See, when people say that...they usually know exactly what - ''_

_''Nothing is wrong,'' he cuts in. ''I'm fine.''_

_''Yeah,'' she scoffs, ''that's what we all say, sweetie. It's almost never true.'' When he grimaces, she lets her concern bleed through, moving closer to lay a hand on his arm. ''Castiel, what's going on?''_

_''The war,'' he finally says, looking up at her. She's almost taken aback by how wary he looks. Defeated. She's never seen him look so sad before. ''In Heaven,'' he elaborates needlessly. ''It is...'' He lips picker together and his eyes narrow slightly while he tries to find a way to put all of these emotions swirling around in his blue eyes into a sentence. He rubs at his forehead. ''...Taxing,'' he settles on. ''And I'm not sure...'' He stops. ''I'm just not sure anymore.''_

_She sighs, gazing at him sympathetically, leaning back against the wall tiredly. ''Not sure about what?''_

_His eyes steady and harden. ''In war, there are consequences,'' he monotones, like this is a rehearsed speech. One he has practiced in front of the bathroom mirror. ''Casualties. There are always consequences. What if...What if winning the war isn't worth the possibility of heartache and destruction?''_

_That spiel sounds an awful lot like giving up. She knows that tune by heart. ''Cas,'' she says firmly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. ''Heaven is your home. You have to fight for it. Look, war is messy. It's always going to be messy, but - ''_

_''The ends justify the means?''_

_She smirks weakly. ''Something like that.''_

_''...You're tired.'' He drifts away from her and goes back to not looking at her. What is up with that? It's like he can't even stand to look at her lately. ''You should go to bed.''_

_''No,'' she bites. ''I want you to listen to me, and listen good.'' She plants herself in front of him and tries to get him to meet her eyes. ''We fight for our homes, Castiel. If there is anything that Dean and Sam have taught us, it's that. So,'' she smiles, steps forwards, and she fixes his tie. Just like always. ''You do what you need to do, wings. And you know I'll stand behind you. There are a lot of uncertainties in life,'' she points out. ''But there's one thing I know for sure.'' She touches his cheek softly. ''I will always believe in you.''_

_He is still stubbornly refusing to meet her eyes. (Oh, for fuck's sake. He's acting like a child.)_

_''Always,'' she promises him. ''I want you to know that.''_

_And then he looks at her. When he finally does allow himself to lock eyes with her, he stares at her with a fire blazing in his eyes, so bright and so intense that it startles her. It scares her. She's seen that kind of fire before. That kind of all consuming, raw, passionate fire that melts you down. Through hell and high water, kids and apocalypses, and grief and whiskey, it is the fire that still ignites deep inside of her when she looks at Dean. It's what she sees in Dean's eyes. It's the kind of fire that doesn't burn out._

_She has to swallow something down - she doesn't know if it's a sigh or a gasp - and takes a slow step away from him. She has to catch her breath. But no. She's wrong. She has to be. That's ridiculous. It was just a trick of the light. There's no way he could ever feel that way about her. She's his friend. She's his family. Nothing more. She is a demon and he is an angel. That's not the way it works._

_Looking quite alarmed himself, Castiel distances himself from her. ''I should go,'' he says once more, quiet and regretful._

_(It's love, you know. The fire. It's love. The kind of love that takes you apart.)_

_She doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say a thing. Downstairs, the front door opens and shuts. Ruby whirls around when she hears a bang and Dean's muffled curse of, ''Ouch! God fucking damn it! Son of a bitch!'' Slow and heavy footsteps sound on the stairs and she looks back at Castiel. His expression has shifted, eyes gone blank. She decides that yes, it must have been a trick of the light. ''Ruby?''_

_She turns wide eyes to Dean._

_''Hey,'' he offers her a tired smile. ''What are you still doing up?''_

_She flips her eyes to where Castiel was, but he's not there. ''Oh, I, uh...I heard you come in.'' She smiles weakly when he slips one hand around her waist easily and drops a kiss to the top of her head. ''Come on,'' she takes his hand. ''Let's go to bed.''_

_Yes._

_It was just a trick of the light._

.

.

.

/XI/

_she sat alone upon the simple ground_

.

.

.

This is her fault.

Sitting on the cool ground, trench coat resting limply in her lap, she comes to the cold realization that this is all her fault. She told him to fight for his home. Do what he needed to do. She basically gave him permission to kill himself. She gave him the means to destroy himself. He's dead because of her. (She had no idea he would go that far.) She chuckles bitterly. She supposes it's a rite of passage in some ways. You don't get to be a Winchester unless you carry the unbelievable weight of guilt on your shoulders.

''I'm sorry,'' she whispers to the chilly and _empty_ air. ''Castiel, I'm so sorry. I made a lot of mistakes with you. I know that now.'' She lifts her gaze from the coat to the star filled sky. ''I failed you,'' she chokes out. ''Dean _loved_ you and so did Sam and Bobby, but... But you were mine. You belonged to me...and I should have been better. Should have saved you. And I'm going to have to live with you for the rest of my life. Maybe it's what I deserve.'' She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ''I'm okay with that. I'll carry that. But you...'' She shakes her head and doesn't even bother to wipe away the tears. ''I meant it, you know. What I said. What I _promised _you. I meant all of it.'' She smiles sadly up at Orion and his belt, a bright, sparkling constellation in the sky. (Castiel taught her about constellations when she was pregnant with Bray. He used to love the stars.) It has always been her favourite. ''I will_ always _believe in you. Because you and me, wings, _we're always._ But you deserve to rest now. You've been through so much.''

She lowers her gaze back to the coat, brushing away tears before they can drip onto the fabric. ''Do you remember when I was pregnant with Bray and I could never find a comfortable position to sleep in and at the end there, Dean just started asking you to help me sleep because you could put someone to sleep with the touch of your hand? And you did it every time, even though you were still a little reluctant around me. ...You know sometimes I thought you were doing it just to get me to stop talking.'' She laughs lightly. ''It felt like a fucking miracle at the time.''

She starts to fold the coat tenderly, running her hands across the soft fabric. ''I think it's your turn now, Cas,'' she says, folding the coat into a final careful square. ''I know it's hard and I know you may not want to, but it's time to sleep. I would love to promise you that I'll see you again someday, but I can't. You know I can't. I have no idea where I'll go when I'm done for. All I can do is promise to stay with you until you fall asleep.'' She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. ''Just close your eyes,'' she tells the trench coat. ''Okay? Do it for me?''

There's a flutter in her stomach and an aching in her chest that she can't make go away. She clenches her fingers into the coat and stares down at her lap, trying and failing horribly not to lose it. A sob gets caught in her throat and she can't get it out. Breathing around it becomes difficult. She squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her expanding belly. It's not fair how familiar she is with this feeling of losing everything she once held so dear. She's tired of losing people she loves. It fucking _blows._

She is twenty eight years old (according to this body anyway - technically she's, like, nearing seven hundred-ish) and she should not look this tired. No twenty eight year old should be this tired with life.

A shadow falls over her, blocking the light of the moon and she looks up. Bobby stands in front of her, silhouetted by the bright moonlight. He looks at her, expression ranging somewhere between sympathy and worry, and then he sits down next to her, eyes catching the trench coat. He doesn't say anything, doesn't try to console her and she's grateful for that. She doesn't need simple platitudes that always sound fake and mindless, no matter who they're coming from.

''Bobby, if I tell you something, you have to give me your word that you won't tell Dean and Sam.'' It spills out before she can stop it, tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

He sighs, but nods. ''All right.''

She sucks in a breath of cool air. ''Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting something,'' she confesses. She hasn't admitted that out loud to anyone before. It's something she keeps locked away inside. Sometimes there are moments, just short brief moments, where she feels like there is a hole inside of her. Like something has been taken away. A piece of her memory. Something vital. ''And it feels like...'' She pauses, struggling noticeably. ''...It feels like it's something important. Something I should know. But something I'm not_ supposed _to know.'' Well, it sounds ridiculous when she says it out loud. She looks to Bobby for answers, but his lips are pursed together in confusion and his eyebrows are furrowed. ''I don't know,'' she sighs, sniffling noisily. ''I just feel so broken lately. Like something's missing. Does it ever stop? The brokenness? Does it ever just stop?''

He looks at her intently and meets her eyes. ''No.''

Not the answer she was hoping for. There is no sugarcoating. No promises that will inevitably be broken. And that's exactly what she wanted, that's what she always wants, but the cold hard facts seem colder tonight, hitting her like a slap in the face. ''Then what? What now? Please, Bobby, please,'' she begs. ''Tell me what happens now.''

He takes a long time to answer, seemingly mulling over his answer and selecting every word with a delicate precision. ''It evens out,'' he finally tells her.

She gapes at him. ''What does?''

''Life,'' he shrugs. ''Things... They level.'' He swallows. ''You eat, you sleep, you breathe. The sun rises, it sets. We fight the monsters, the monsters fight back. Those god awful soap operas continue to air. We don't forget,'' he shakes his head solemnly, ''and we don't ever truly move on and it doesn't go away - it never goes away - but somehow...someway...we go on. And if you're lucky enough, you find something to go on for.''

He makes it sound so easy.

She snorts. ''Like what?''

''Family.'' He says it like it's obvious (and it should be - it really fucking should be). ''Children, Ruby. Sons. Daughters.'' He cups her face in his hands and looks at her like he's giving her a direct order. ''We go on for them because they need us to. And it ain't gonna be easy and it's gonna hurt like hell most days, but you're gonna do it anyway. Now, you loved Cas and Lord knows he loved you, but nothing will ever give you the right to give up. Not when you have a little baby girl and another one on the way.''

She has to blink to clear her suddenly blurry vision. She lets a weak and tearful smile grace her lips and reaches out to place one hand over his. And then she drops the act and throws herself at him, letting him wrap his arms around her. ''I'm trying, Bobby,'' she promises. ''I'm trying.''

.

.

.

''Do you think,'' she begins after she has placed the trench coat back in the trunk and before they go back inside, out of the cold. ''Do you think he loved me, Bobby?'' She asks because she has to know. She has always been too curious for her own good.

''Yes.''

''No.'' She kicks at the dirt. ''Do you think he was _in love _with me?''

Bobby doesn't look like he wants to answer that question. ''Ruby, that boy loved you with everything,'' he says at last. ''In all different ways, all different degrees. He loved you with _everything. _I can't tell you what that means.''

**end part four**

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><p><strong>AN: BUT. Is she really being haunted? Or is it something else entirely? What is she forgetting? Ooooh. Suspense, people. <strong>

**I felt I really needed to write a Bobby scene after last week's gut wrenching and soul crushing shocker. I actually want to assure you guys that even though the Lila Bray 'verse sticks to canon and all that (well...as much as it can what with the AU aspect of Bray and Ruby) no matter what happens with Bobby in the show, he will not be going anywhere in the Lila Bray 'verse. He means too much to...everyone, really. Characters, readers, me. He will not be going anywhere.**

**Up Next:**

_Dean asks Ruby a very important question. For, like, the millionth freaking time._


	5. they are the last romantics

_AN: Yikes! Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I've kind of been neglecting this story (and ''Everything You Want'' - oh, man! ''Everything You Want!'') because of ''till dawn, dear'' and I cannot apologize enough for that. And sorry about the short length of this chapter. I was going to add more to it, but I wanted the events of the next few chapters to be completely separate from the proposal._

_Oh, some news for everybody: I posted this on my LJ, but I thought it best to post it here as well. I'm going to be taking a hiatus from fanfic during the month of January, just to deal with some real life issues and to spend more time on my novel. Meaning you probably won't be seeing updates from me and I probably won't be online. However, have no fear! I will be back by - at the very latest - Valentine's Day. I just wanted to make sure you all know that when I disappear in the New Year, it will not mean I'm dead in a gutter. It just means I'm taking a break. BUT. I won't be disappearing for a couple more weeks, so hopefully I can get ''till dawn, dear'' finished and maybe even get the all important final battle chapter of ''Everything You Want'' posted. *crosses fingers*_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Five<strong>

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/XII/

_they are the last romantics_

.

.

.

She's the most beautiful broken mess he has ever seen.

That's what his girl is.

Fractured and fragmented into a million little pieces just like he is. Like he has _always_ been.

Ruby breaks faces and hearts and _rules_ like they're made of paper, ripping them apart without even realizing what she's doing. And she makes him feel _alive. _She is the light at the end of the tunnel for him. She has always been the one and she will always be the one._ Forever. _(And it scares him sometimes...how much he loves her...all the things he would do for her...) They are eternity and fuck, he wants to marry her so bad.

And - to put it simply - he hates how fucking miserable she is these days.

He has a broken leg, all right? Not a broken brain. He can see how much she hates this. She's struggling to keep Bray happy, she's struggling to keep herself together and no matter what she says (''I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me'') he can tell this pregnancy is taking its toll on her. She has never liked being pregnant. She is not one of those women who can shake off their symptoms or who _looove _being pregnant and find it easy and awesome (fucking freaks of nature). Pregnancy hits Ruby hard. She's sick, tired, achy, sore and hormonal for the whole nine months.

During the last couple months of her pregnancy with Bray, she swore up and down that she was never going through this again. (''You better fucking like this kid,'' she had snapped at him during labor, ''and I swear to God, she better be fucking cute.'') Being cooped up in a disgustingly small cabin in the middle of Fuck All, Montana certainly isn't helping anything.

He hates how pale she's gotten, worries over how little weight she's putting on, frets over whether or not she's keeping anything down, and he doesn't foresee his concern taking a hike anytime soon. He feels helpless in this damn cast. He can barely shower, let alone take the reins with Bray and all of that shit that he wants so badly to help her with, but he can't. In the back of his mind, he knows it all comes down to her newfound humanity. She is _fragile _now, and he has to protect her, keep her safe. He has already lost too much. He can't handle losing anyone else. He will die before he loses Ruby.

That's how much (how _desperately_) he loves her.

(And if you think about it, that has always been their biggest problem, hasn't it? Perhaps they love each other a little _too _much. After all, in the end, isn't it usually love that tears people apart?)

.

.

.

It's a Friday when he finally plucks up the courage to ask her again.

It is late at night, too late to be awake, and Dean can't sleep. The couch in this godforsaken place is stupidly uncomfortable, his leg itches like crazy and he can't seem to get to sleep without Ruby lying next to him. He can't stand this dumbass cast. It's an evil little bitch designed to make his life hell and it's a cockblocker to boot. He wants to take it off and smash it against the side of the house. He wants to salt and burn the thing.

The fuzzy television gets exactly three channels. One of them is in Spanish, one of them is the home shopping network and the other one is 24/7 kids' shows. You would think the last one would be a blessing considering there is an extremely bored three year old in the house, but she's more of a Disney movie girl. Besides, these are the more annoying shows like The Wiggles and Teletubbies and Teletubbies give Bray nightmares. Bray prefers the shopping channel. It excites her. Dean kind of gravitates towards the Spanish soap operas. (Shut up.)

Tonight, however, he's left cursing the stupid television. In English _and _Spanish. He watches five minutes of an infomercial in another language, watches an entire episode of Elmo's World, spends an embarrassing amount of time watching a children's show called In the Night Garden, which is fucking _terrifying_, and then settles on the shopping network, staring at the world's ugliest vase.

Well, his life is just pitiful at this point. He's got an Elmo song stuck in his head, for Christ's sake, and that shit just ain't right.

At around three-ish (give or take), some chick named Glenda is droning on in the background about a special blender, and he still cannot sleep. No matter how dull Glenda's voice is. He's got his leg propped up on the coffee table and his eyes are on the ceiling, bored out of his freaking mind. He is getting _this close _to actually punching himself in the face in an effort to knock himself out when he hears footsteps. He sits up straight and throws a look over his shoulder.

Ruby shuffles into the room slowly, both hands cradling her stomach. She's wearing that old t-shirt of his that she refuses to give back (and fuck, he loves it when she wears his clothes) that goes down to her hips and hangs loosely on her frame and sweatpants with her hair slightly mussed and frizzy from her pillow.

He still thinks she's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

She goes straight to him, like there's something pulling her to him. He doesn't say anything for a moment, throat constricting unexplainably. She looks sleepy, offering him a tired smile, absently raking her fingers through his hair. Her fingernails scrape down the back of his neck and he shivers involuntarily. It's nice. It feels like it's been a long time since they had a moment alone. Something has changed between them since Cas died. He doesn't like it. (If he's being honest, things changed between them long before Cas died. It started last year, when he went back to hunting full time and she didn't, keeping her job and the house in Sioux Falls and only helping out with hunts when she could.)

''Hey.'' He tilts his head back to look up at her and grasps her wrist, pulling her arm down so he can press a quick kiss to the back of her hand. ''You okay?''

''Yeah.'' She moves around the couch and drops onto the couch next to him. ''I feel fine, actually, which is a nice change of pace. I just can't sleep.'' She reaches across him to grab the pillow on the other side of him and tosses it onto his lap, lying down and stealing the remote control off the table. ''What about you?'' She flips the television back to the Spanish channel. The infomercial has ended, a repeat of a soap opera now playing softly.

He shrugs noncommittally and doesn't say a word about the dreams he's been having. Nightmares, really. About Cas, the fire, that indescribable feeling he felt when he thought she and Bray were gone forever. ''Hard to sleep with this thing,'' he gestures to the cast.

''Does it hurt?'' She asks, drawing circles on the palm of his hand.

And he knows that she's talking about physical pain, so he shrugs again and says, ''...Nah, I'm good.''

She shifts and rubs her stomach with one hand, keeping her eyes on the TV. He lets his hand slide over hers and when she moves her hand, he can feel the small curve of her stomach underneath the thin t-shirt. A familiar wave of uncertainty and excitement washes over him. He remembers this feeling. It's the same feeling he felt all those years ago (feels like just yesterday) when he felt Bray kick for the first time.

''So,'' she rasps, ''you think we're ready for another one?''

No. He doesn't think they're ready at all. ''I think we'll get ready,'' is his confident reply instead.

She laughs. ''That's a good answer.''

They're quiet for another minute and in the silence, it hits him. It's a sudden realization that comes after weeks (months) of trying to decode the puzzle before him. Things have changed for them and their relationship because there is something resting in between them, growing like a cancer, and it's not the cast or the baby or Cas. It's a space. He can almost see it. They could be pressed together, locked in each other's arms for the rest of their lives, but as long as they ignore the space it is going to be there. And it is going to cut them both apart.

He is not sure if he has ever been this afraid before.

Breath catching like he's been punched in the gut, he looks around the room for his jacket. When he spots it, draped across the back of a chair in the tiny kitchenette, he purses his lips and tries to nonchalantly reach out to the jacket. Sparing a glance at the blonde in his lap, he tries to make it look like he's stretching, fingers inching towards the jacket.

''So, what happens now?'' She questions softly.

He scoots closer to the edge of the couch, reaching out as far as he can, intent on getting that damn jacket into his grasp. ''With what?''

''With everything,'' she says. ''I-I mean, what about the house in Sioux Falls? Do we just put it up for sale? Are we never going home again, Dean? What about my job? Bray's preschool?'' She sits up suddenly, meeting his eyes. ''Dean, what are we supposed to do? Do we just...go back to the way things were when she was a baby?'' She looks down at her hands and her hair falls into her face. ''Hunting down evil with a kid in the backseat? Is that who we're supposed to become? Is that how it ends?''

He stops reaching for the jacket, hand falling limply. Well, she makes a good point. In his head, he has a flash of his reflection in the mirror, tired and haggard. _When did it happen? _There's a voice in his head, a scolding soft familiar voice. An invisible hand strokes his cheek mockingly. _Was it last year when Sammy came home? Was it when your daughter was born? When Cas died? Was it when you started needed whiskey lullabies to get to sleep at night? After Hell? During Hell? Before? When was it, Dean? _The voice in his head is not his own. It's not Sam, not Ruby, not Bobby, not even Cas. It's quiet and cold, not like he remembers, but it's her. It is all her. _Or maybe it's always been there, hmm? Lurking around in the shadow of your heart? In your damaged psyche? You don't even realize what's happened do you? _

It's _Mom._

_Congratulations, my baby boy,_ the ghost whispers in his ear cruelly, phantom breath tingling his neck as nails dig into his cheek and scratch. _You have become the one person you never wanted to be. Your father. Go ahead, sweet pea. Scream._ Over Ruby's shoulder, Dean catches sight of his mother standing there in her bloodied nightgown, grinning at him. It's a really bad sign when nightmares begin to transfer over into the waking hours. He really needs to get some sleep.

''Dean?''

He jolts back to reality, twitching in surprise, and finds Ruby's hand on his cheek and a hollow and gaping hole in his chest. His mouth has gone dry and he needs a drink. Something strong that'll make whatever the fuck _that _was go the fuck away. Ruby is frowning at him, concern touching her tired eyes. ''Hey.'' Her frown deepens when he swallows hard and leans into her touch just to make sure it's real. ''Where did you go?''

''Nowhere,'' he whispers. ''I was here.''

(Lies, lies, lies.)

''Listen, Ruby - ''

''No.'' She shakes her head and draws away from him. He grasps her t-shirt between his fingers, but it slips out of his grip as she stands and he is left empty. ''Nevermind. Just...forget I asked, okay? We're both tired. We shouldn't be talking about this now. We...We need to have clear heads when we talk about this.'' She runs a hand over her stomach and tosses him a half hearted, quick smile. ''I should probably try to sleep,'' she says hoarsely. ''I'm sure Bray will be running me ragged tomorrow.''

''Wait.'' He gulps nervously when she turns back around to face him, eyebrows raised expectantly. God, why is he so nervous? This isn't the first time he's attempted to ask her this question. (No, but it's the first time he's asked her with a prop.) ''Can...Can you hand me my jacket?'' He requests quietly. ''I want to show you something.''

Lips thinned as if she knows what's about to happen, she pauses before she hands him the jacket, taking her seat next to him once again. Dean fumbles for what he's searching for, hands suddenly feeling numb and out of his control. ''Ruby,'' he clears his throat. ''I know you don't...I know you're not a fan of the idea of marriage...'' When she stiffens beside him, looking away from him, he backpedals quickly and has to come up with a new game plan. ''Ruby, I've never been with someone the way I've been with you...'' He trails off and decides that's not the way to go. ''Okay, you know what?'' He grunts impatiently, throws his jacket aside with a huff and tosses her a small box. ''Fuck this shit. It's not cute anymore. We are way past the girlfriend and boyfriend stage of our relationship. Shit, woman, we've got two kids. I don't want to be like Kourtney Kardashian and Scott Dickface - ''

''Do you actually know who those people are? Because if you do, I _must_ mock you.''

''I want to make it official. And yeah, yeah, you don't need to be married to be together. I know that. But I want to be married to you. I want that more than...'' He swallows again, mouth feeling unbearably dry. Beside him, she slowly opens the ring box and instantly presses two fingers to her mouth, a small noise escaping her lips. ''And I get that it scares you or whatever,'' he scoffs. ''But you don't have to be afraid of me. I just...I want to be able to call you my wife, Ruby. I don't think you realize how much I want it, because...because I love you so much and I want you to know that I'm in this until the end. Until we're old and gray and we can't remember our names, but we'll remember how it feels to be in love. And fuck you if you don't want that.''

The passion in his voice startles even him. He's asked her to marry him a million times and so far, the only answer he has gotten is a big fat no. But he has never felt like this. He is trying to fill that space, you know. With a ring. A marriage. It's like cement to him. A safety net. ''Just let me marry you, Ruby.'' She doesn't say a word and he lets out a long breath. ''Are you even fucking listening to me?'' He turns to look at her and his jaw clenches.

She's staring down at the ring with disbelief in her eyes, an honest to God smile threatening to slip over her lips. She looks up at him with those glistening (beautiful) eyes of hers. ''You've...You've never had a ring before.''

''I...'' He tries to swallow, but he can't. ''I didn't want you to say no to a ring.''

''But you're asking me now.''

''You're not saying no this time,'' he informs her. ''I'm not giving you a damn choice.''

Much to his surprise, she doesn't bite his head off for his brutish attitude. She doesn't even laugh at him and call him a sappy jerk. She merely continues to stare down at the ring thoughtfully. It's a simple ring with a small diamond, but it was all he could afford when he had originally bought it. Maybe he should have traded it in when he had the money for a better ring. Something more beautiful. Something brighter. Bigger. Except he likes the ring he picked out. It's not much, but it feels like it's enough. It's not big or fancy, but it works and it feels so right even though it shouldn't. (Not talking about a ring anymore, are we?)

''How long have you been carrying this around?'' She asks, still staring at it like she's afraid it will disappear at any given moment.

He clears his throat. ''About a year.'' He pauses, chuckling softly. ''Give or take.''

''Give or take...what?''

''...Another year.''

She looks oddly determined as she flicks her gaze back to the ring. ''So, this thing's been burning a hole in your pocket for two years?''

''Yep.''

She seems to contemplate that seriously, staring intently at the ring. He doesn't think he has ever seen her this entranced by an inanimate object. Finally, taking in a deep breath, she hands him back the ring. ''Put it on me,'' she orders him calmly.

He goes still. He can truthfully say he had not been expecting that. He had mostly been expecting her to punch him on the shoulder or something to that effect. He raises his eyes to stare at her incredulously. ''Really?''

She nods simply and holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers. ''Hurry up before I change my mind.''

He decides he better damn well listen to her. There is a great big smile breaking out on his lips that reaches all the way to his eyes and sends pleasant warmth spreading throughout him. He takes the ring out of the box and slips it onto her left ring finger obnoxiously slowly. It feels good. Exactly the feeling he has been waiting for.

She offers him a soft smile as she looks down at the ring. ''Just to be clear,'' she looks up from admiring her ring with true adoration. ''I'm not saying yes. But I'm not saying no either. I'm saying maybe someday. When I'm ready. I know,'' she runs a hand over his cheek briefly. ''I know marriage is important to you and I know it's something you want, but...'' She licks her lips, looking apologetic. ''It's just not something I'm ready for. You have to understand, Dean, my parents were never married and they were happy. ...Sort of. And then why my mom married my stepdad... They had the weirdest, most toxic relationship I had ever known. When they got bored, they fought. And they got bored a lot. It was like they got off on it. It was sick and twisted and I don't ever want to be like them.'' She shivers. ''I can't be like them.''

''Hey, sweetheart,'' he squeezes her knee gently. ''I get that, okay? I really do. I don't want to be my parents either. But you and me? We're not anyone but Dean and Ruby and we won't ever be anyone but Dean and Ruby. Trust me on that. I just,'' he threads his fingers through hers and brings her hand up to kiss the back of it. ''I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere.''

''I do,'' she smiles. ''I know that.''

Satisfied enough for now, he leans back against the couch. ''Okay, so...good then. We're...'' He looks down at the ring on her finger and tilts his head to the side. ''Well, what are we?''

She curls comfortably into his side. ''We're engaged to be engaged. Work for you?''

''Yeah. That works for me.''

She lifts her hand up to look at the ring, eyes twinkling happily as she stares at it. ''You did good, Winchester,'' she tells him. And then she slaps him on the stomach lightly. When he groans in mock pain, she laughs and leans up to kiss him soundly, shutting him right up. He kisses her back hungrily, tangling one hand in her hair. ''Dean,'' she murmurs against his lips when his hand slips up her shirt. ''You have a cast on your leg,'' she reminds him, lips curving into a smile as he trails kisses down her jaw line and her neck. See, she says that, but she's practically climbing onto his lap as she says it, so the whole argument is mostly invalid.

''Sure as fuck ain't gonna stop me.'' He slants his lips back over hers and she laughs into his mouth, falling into him, hands flat against his chest.

''Someone could come in,'' she tries. ''Sam could - ''

''Like he hasn't walked in on us before.''

She giggles. ''And do we really want a repeat of that lecture?''

''Don't care.''

''What about Bobby?''

''He's walked in on us too.''

''We should really learn how to lock a door.''

He responds by sucking on her collarbone lightly, which has always driven her crazy. Triumph spreads throughout him when he hears her sharp intake of breath.

''Dean,'' she moans, squirming. ''Our three year old could walk in on us.''

''The danger makes it better.''

She laughs and when his fingers slip into the waistband of her sweatpants, she stops arguing.

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/XIII/

_kissed me quite insane_

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.

.

It happens, eventually.

Dean gets his cast off after about four weeks of awkward showers and lumpy couches and the first thing he and Sam talk about is hunting down some Leviathan ass.

Well.

They start to anyway. But then Bray gets the sniffles and Dean doesn't want to leave while his little girl's sick, so they decide to hold off on hunting for a few more days. Maybe another week. What could it hurt?

Right?

**end part five**

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><p><strong>AN: So, there you go. I really wanted to leave this on a somewhat fluffy note, considering Lord knows season seven ain't no fluffy season and there are going to be some extreme hardships on the horizon for the Winchester family.<strong>

**I'm not totally sure when the next update for this fic will be, but hopefully before the end of the month. Some important events are going to be taking place in the next few chapters and I really want to get them over with, so to speak.**

**Up Next:**

_Dean and Sam continue to avoid hunting. Ruby continues to struggle with her difficult pregnancy..._


	6. lifelines

_AN: ATTENTION, PEOPLE! Do you remember a few chapters back when I said that an upcoming chapter was going to have some graphic badness in it and because of that, the rating was bumped up to M and that particular chapter was going to have separate warnings at the beginning? This is that chapter. It's not actually as graphic as I had originally planned on making it, but in the end, I just couldn't emotionally or physically bring myself to make it as graphic as I had planned. I thought that would have been a little bit too much. However, the subject is still a triggery one, so I still feel the need to warn for it, and the rating will remain as it is._

_If you don't personally have any triggers or if you don't want to be spoiled, you can skip over the warnings, but I feel more comfortable having them here just in case._

_CHAPTER WARNINGS: From here on out, this story will deal with loss of pregnancy (late miscarriage) in what is hopefully a realistic manner, which means I'm going to try not to sugarcoat anything. There will be talk of medical procedures and such. Even if you aren't triggered by loss of pregnancy, it could still be uncomfortable. If it triggers you, which is completely understandable, I advise you to either turn back now or proceed with extreme caution. And - as I probably should have mentioned sooner - this story will also deal with thoughts and talk of suicide._

_Okay. Carry on._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Six<strong>

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/XIV/

_lifelines_

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The excuses keep coming for Dean and Sam, piling up and building a wall, preventing them from returning to the way things were before, keeping them safe in the relative peace of Rufus' dingy cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bray gets the sniffles, Sam worries about Dean's leg, Dean worries about Sam and all of his brand new hallucination friends, Bobby leaves for a few days on a supply run and they don't want to leave Ruby and Bray alone, Ruby's pregnancy is sucking monkey balls, maybe the car needs a quick tune up...

There are many excuses, but there is only one good reason as to why they're stalling like a reluctant and scared little kid on the first day of school: They are _tired. _(Please. They flew by _tired_ about three years ago.) It's not the kind of tiredness that can be solved by a quick catnap either. This awful tiredness...this exhaustion... It's _forever. _It has seeped into their bones, into their bloodstream like a poison, a cancer, taking up residence in their bodies permanently, and it's not going to go away.

Not ever.

They could sleep for days (they could sleep for weeks, months, years) but it would never been enough to stave off the brokenness inside of them.

It's a sad, sad tale, but it's the story of their life and they don't get another.

And then there's the baby. Ruby's pregnancy is another big reason why Dean has dug his heels into the dirt. She has just barely hit the nineteenth week mark (and she's been cooped up in this place since her fifteenth week) and it still doesn't appear to be getting any easier. She's still dealing with horrible morning sickness, she's still tired all of the time, the hormones are beating on her mercilessly and the cravings have kicked in with a vengeance. He just doesn't want to leave her alone to deal with it on her own. Not again. She was alone for four months while he was dead. She had cut herself off from Bobby and Sam and holed herself up in some podunk town in Missouri and he doesn't want her to be alone this time. It's not fair to her.

He missed a lot when she was pregnant with Bray (too busy being all dead and decomposing) and it still bothers him that he never got the chance to feel Bray kick for the first time. He remembers the first time he felt Bray kick, but he never got the chance to see the look on Ruby's face the first time she felt her kick. He can never get that time back, but he can be here for this pregnancy.

There is a part of him (a big part) that just wants to shout_ fuck you _at everything. He paid his dues. He stopped the goddamn apocalypse. Let some other poor sap figure out a way to stop the Leviathans. Just let him be _done._ But it doesn't work like that and he knows it. He's pretty much stuck here in this stalemate of waiting and hunting and waiting and hunting. Someday, he'll retire. Someday he'll settle down with Ruby and his kids and everything will be fine and happy.

For now, though, he will just have to suck it up and deal.

...Just as soon as he changes the oil in the car.

.

.

.

Dean is beyond grateful that he no longer has to deal with a cast, but he's still limping around somewhat pathetically and he can't put his full weight on his bum leg just yet. All of this combined with hormones eventually culminates in extreme paranoia from Ruby, which means that when she sends him off to get groceries with a huge long list, she insists he take Bobby with him. She tells him that if he falls with his arms full, he won't be able to catch himself because he'll put his weight on his injured leg and sink like a stone and then he won't be able to get up and then he'll either starve to death or freeze into a giant ice cube. It's quite possibly the craziest thing he's ever heard, but hell, he ain't gonna argue with her.

She let him put a ring on her finger, so he figures he owes her.

Besides, it's Bobby. How bad of a shopper can Bobby be? At least he's not Sam, who analyzes every item on the shopping list and then the condescending really starts whenever Dean goes for something that can even be considered remotely unhealthy. ''Do you _really_ think you should be eating that?'' ''Would Ruby_ really _want to waste money on that?'' ''Should you _really_ be consuming that much sugar?'' ''Is that _really_ the best thing to feed a three year old?''

As it turns out, Bobby's even worse. As strange and horrifying as it is to learn, Bobby shops like a little kid. His eyes widen and light up and he keeps throwing weird things into the cart. He seems incredibly fascinated by the cereal aisle. ''How do they shape the marshmallows?'' He asks, looking at the back of a box of Lucky Charms. ''How did they decide on what shapes to use? Who made that call?''

Dean blinks at him. ''Does that_ really _matter?'' (Oh, god. He just pulled a Sam.)

''Well, inquiring minds want to know, boy.''

It turns into a big damn production, this grocery shopping thing.

''Who came up with the idea for cheeseburger flavored Doritos?'' Bobby asks in the car, staring down into an open bag of chips. ''That's practically blasphemy.'' He takes a chip, chews on it thoughtfully and frowns. ''I don't love the texture of these things.''

Dean rolls his eyes. Mutters under his breath about the ridiculousness of how nobody shops right. He hates shopping. Sam's a pompous jerk when it comes to shopping, Bobby's annoyingly inquisitive, Ruby's like a freaking drill sergeant and always manages to get into altercations with other customers, Bray's three and she has a nasty habit of eating things off the ground, like the time she picked up a green grape that had been stepped on and would have put it in her mouth and ate it with a smile on her face if her dad hadn't been there to snatch it out of her hand and inform her that _we don't eat things off the ground, sugar_...

It's a rat race, and this is why he prefers shopping alone. Nobody does it right.

At around six forty five, Dean limps through the door with two bags of groceries in his arms and Bobby struggling after him, bogged down by way more than two bags (which is really just a safety hazard). And really, the night starts going to shit the minute Dean walks in the door. The awkward grocery shopping had nothing on what's to come.

At the kitchen table, Bray is sitting with her arms crossed, kicking at the legs of the chair while she pouts miserably and glares at Uncle Sammy. Her lower lip is jutted out and her eyes are practically fireballs. She honestly looks like she is trying to send laser beams right into Sam's forehead. Poor Sam looks exhausted, rubbing at his forehead, about five to ten minutes away from a breakdown. ''Okay, babe,'' he starts, sounding like it's taking all of his effort to remain calm. ''I don't understand what you want from me. It's a grilled cheese,'' he gestures to the untouched sandwich on the plate across from her. ''It's impossible to screw up.''

''You did it wrong,'' she insists with a stubborn shake of her head. ''You're a stupid head.''

''Hey!'' Dean all but slams the bags down on the counter and points a warning finger at his daughter. ''You better watch your mouth, kid, 'cause I am not afraid to wash it out with soap.''

She makes a _harrumph_ like sound and slouches farther down in her chair. ''I hate it here,'' she declares. ''I wanna go home.''

To his credit, Dean doesn't even flinch, slipping out of his jacket and blatantly ignoring the look Sam and Bobby share behind his back (like they think he's about to break or something) as he calmly begins to unload the groceries. ''Well, suck it up, sugar,'' he remarks. ''This_ is _home right now. That's not gonna change just because you decide to act like a brat.''

''M'not a brat,'' she mumbles.

He whirls around to meet her eyes, planting his hands firmly on the table. ''You just called your uncle a stupid head because he fucked up a grilled cheese.''

''Look!'' She shouts indignantly, pointing at the sandwich on the table with a trembling, accusing finger.

''It's a grilled cheese!'' Sam bursts out. ''Nobody screws up a grilled cheese! It's bread and cheese!''

Dean frowns and shoots a look at his brother. ''You put mayo on it?''

Sam opens to mouth, looking smug, and then abruptly snaps his jaw shut and ducks his head.

''I don't see any ketchup on the plate either,'' Dean points out. ''And it's not cut the right way. She likes it cut into strips so she can dunk it in ketchup. Or tomato soup.''

''And she'll worship you for the rest of her life if you put bacon in it,'' Bobby tacks on helpfully. ''Literally _worship. _I put bacon in her sandwich once and she made a statue of me out of play-doh. That's a true story.''

Now it's Bray's turn to look smug. Smirking in victory, she sticks her tongue out at her uncle and says, ''See?''

''You're still a brat,'' Dean informs her.

She blanches. ''Nu-uh!''

''Yeah-huh! When something's wrong, you politely tell him what he did wrong. You do not pout and call him a stupid head.'' His nose wrinkles and he stands straight, folding his arms. ''What exactly is a stupid head anyway?''

''His _head _is _stupid_.''

''But not the rest of him?''

She looks lost. ''Daddy,'' she grumbles, ''I'm hungry.''

He shrugs and crumples one of the paper bags, tossing it into the trash. ''Not my problem.'' He snatches the plate off the table. ''Brats don't get to eat. They get sent to bed without any dinner.'' Instantly, Bray's eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip trembles dangerously, on the verge of a breakdown. ''It's too bad, too,'' he adds, turning his back to her. ''I was going to make mac and cheese for you.'' The tears overflow and she stares up at him with enormous glistening eyes and wobbly lips. Sam looks like he's about five seconds away from apologizing to _her_ and offering to go out and get her a puppy. Bobby can't even look at her. Dean is immune. And thank God for that. ''Of course,'' he goes on. ''If a brat apologizes and promises to be good...that brat might get fed after all.''

All at once, Bray scrambles off the chair and throws herself at Sam, clutching at his leg and sobbing into his pant leg noisily. ''I'm sorry,'' she cries. ''I didn't mean it. You're not a stupid head. You can't make grilled cheeses right, but I won't ever call you a stupid head again. Not ever, ever, ever, ever!''

Sam sighs and scoops her up into his arms. ''Apology accepted, Brat.'' He smirks when she pulls back and glowers at him. ''I mean _Bray_.''

Dean turns to lean against the counter. ''Much better.'' He smiles, somewhat tiredly and reaches across to ruffle her hair.

''Still think it's downright sad that Sam can't even make a grilled cheese,'' Bobby's voice says, muffled due to the fact that he's got his head stuck inside the refrigerator.

''Where's Ruby?'' Dean asks, cutting in before Sam can get all huffy and offended.

''Bathroom. She said she was going to take a bath and try to relax. Although,'' he checks his watch. ''She has been in there for awhile.''

Dean heaves a sigh. Okay, so he knows morning sickness is a perfectly natural part of pregnancy, but Ruby's morning sickness is beginning to step over the normal line and into the problematic zone. She's barely keeping anything down these days and she looks way too skinny to be nearly five months pregnant. Maybe this is just his paranoia talking (he _hopes_ it's just his paranoia talking) but that doesn't seem right to him. ''Did she eat?'' He asks, taking his daughter from Sam's arms and plopping her back down on a kitchen chair. She's sniffling and rubbing at her eye with one closed fist while her other hand wipes at her runny nose. With a shake of his head and a click of his tongue, he grabs a tissue and tries to gently wipe away her tears.

''She had a bowl of cereal,'' Sam begins hesitantly, handing Bobby the package of macaroni. ''But - ''

''It didn't stay down?'' Dean guesses. He holds the tissue to Bray's nose. ''Blow.''

Sam shakes his head. ''Not so much, no.''

''All right.'' After he has cleaned her face and her snotty hands, Dean stands straight and tosses the tissue into the garbage. ''I should go check on her.'' He leans down to Bray's level and gives her a twinkly eyed smile. ''Mac and cheese,'' he whispers in her ear. ''Go teach Sammy how to make it right.''

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.

Dean is not a knocker.

Especially not when it comes to Ruby. Their bathroom at home doesn't lock. It never has. He's been meaning to fix it ever since they moved in, but he never has, putting it off and forgetting about it, throwing himself into other projects. When Ruby's in there, he usually just barges in without knocking. Is this polite? Not at all. It is perhaps a bad habit? Hell yeah. But he doesn't see a problem with it and Ruby's given up on trying to train him so it has become normal. An annoying but grudgingly accepted little quirk of his. (Besides, he watched her give birth to their daughter; he figures there's really nothing grosser that she can do.)

However.

When she is trying to loosen up and de-stress with a hot bath, he has learned to knock. If he doesn't, she will pelt him with shampoo bottles and bars of soap until he goes back out and knocks. That is one of _her_ little quirks. And so he makes a point of knocking on the bathroom door, waiting until she gives him the okay before he steps inside.

She is not in the bathtub when he steps into the bathroom. There's water in the tub, but he doesn't think she ever actually made it into the water. She's leaning back against the tub, looking pale and stressed, dragging one hand over her stomach like she's trying to soothe the baby. She looks _small, _with her hair tangled, clad in only her underwear, one of his shirts and her robe. Her face is pinched in either discomfort or worry and the dark circles under her eyes are proof of her lack of sleep.

He closes the door behind him silently and takes a seat next to her, one hand automatically moving to massage her shoulders. She lets out a breath and looks up at him through her tired eyes, but she doesn't say anything, staring down at her stomach, hands slowly rubbing circles. ''How are you?'' He asks softly.

She smiles wryly. ''Nauseous, my back hurts, I'm _exhausted_... I was going to have a bath,'' she murmurs hoarsely. ''But then my body decided it would be more fun to spend my time bent over the toilet puking my guts out.'' She shakes her head and licks her lips. ''I'm just tired now. I'd really like to go to bed, but I'm afraid to move.''

He takes in a deep breath and lets his hand drop to her stomach. ''What have you eaten today?''

She shrugs. ''Toast, crackers, a bowl of cereal...''

''Anything stay down?''

''The crackers.''

He presses his lips together. Crackers. Not exactly what one would call a substantial meal. ''Did you make an appointment with the doctor in town?''

She nods, absently chewing on her thumbnail. ''Next Wednesday.'' She shifts uneasily and closes her eyes, tilting her head up to the light. It illuminates the paleness of her skin. ''I don't think this is normal,'' she says suddenly. ''It wasn't this bad when I was pregnant with Bray. I could keep things down. I had more energy. Dean,'' she turns wide, panicked eyes to him. ''What if something's wrong?'' Her eyes glisten and her breathing speeds up. He could blame this on the hormones, but he knows that would be wrong. That feeling of _about to have a panic attack_ that she's feeling? She's not the only one feeling it.

''No.'' He shakes his head adamantly (as if he believes if he's goddamn adamant enough, everything will be fine) and runs his hands up and down her arms comfortingly. ''Ruby, no. Everything's fine. You're just stressed and pregnant.''

''But - ''

''Listen,'' he lets one hand curve over her stomach, the other cupping her cheek. ''Don't panic. Panicking will only make it worse. Let me make you dinner. Something really bland and boring and tasteless, okay? If you can't keep at least some of it down... We'll re-evaluate.''

''Re-evaluate,'' she repeats. ''What does that mean?''

''It means...'' He sucks in a breath. Tries to formulate how to say this without terrifying her. ''It means that we should keep an eye on the horking - ''

''Nice.''

'' - And if you can't keep anything down, maybe we should think about taking you into the ER.''

She doesn't freak out, breathing in deeply and letting it out. She toys with her engagement ring, and presses her lips together. After a moment, she nods slowly and says, ''Okay.'' All at once, her lips turn down and she looks up at him with a deep frown, looking unhappy and frustrated. ''You're not allowed to get me pregnant anymore after this one. You got me?''

He smiles. ''Duly noted.'' He stands and offers her his hand. ''Now, come on. Dinner, then bed, and if you're still spewing by tomorrow - ''

''You are an _amazing _wordsmith,'' she cuts in, slipping her hand into his and letting him help her to her feet.

He drops a kiss to the top of her head. He just prays it doesn't get worse.

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It gets worse.

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/XVI/

_i wasn't ready_

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.

The good news? She manages to keep most of the plain rice and toast down. The bad news? She goes to sleep right after dinner, sleeps for about half an hour, and then wakes up quite violently; absolutely terrified after having a nightmare that something is wrong with the baby. And then she can't get back to sleep. This eventually leads to her bursting into tears and sobbing about everything (the nightmare, Cas, being suddenly re-humanized, the hormones, the neverending morning sickness, Cas, the fact that her back is killing her, the size of the cabin, Cas, Leviathans, how she wants more for Bray, for all of them, and she feels so guilty that this is their life, Cas, the baby, Sam and his broken wall, Bobby's house, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas...) and it's not like she lets him comfort her, because - hi, hello, she's Ruby. If she's going to cry, she's going to do it alone.

But she does wind up getting to sleep (well, crying herself to sleep) and that's all that matters, because once she's out, she's out. She's not usually a sound sleeper, but lately she's been sleeping like a rock, which is great, because it means she won't be flushing the rest of her dinner down the toilet.

Dean goes to sleep around midnight, crawling into the too small bed next to both Bray and Ruby. When he got that bitch of a cast off, he mistakenly thought that the best thing about being free of that plaster prison would be sleeping in a bed again. And yeah, he likes this bed far more than the couch, but unfortunately for him, sleeping in a bed again actually means sharing a bed with his daughter and his fiancée (damn, that feels good to say) and unfortunately, it's a very small bed and _unfortunately_, his kid bed hogs like a little maniac.

But fuck.

It's still a bed and anything is better than that godforsaken couch that Sam is now stuck with, so he'll take the bed and the bed hogger and he'll fucking deal. Even if it does mean frequently waking up in the middle of the night pressed to the very edge of the bed with a leg entangled in his own and a hand thrown over his face. It's no problem. He can cope. Besides, Bray is like a fucking furnace, which means she keeps him nice and warm at night when she's using him as her personal teddy bear.

Always look on the bright side of things.

It feels like he only sleeps for a few minutes, but when he wakes in the dead of night and opens bleary eyes to check the alarm clock on the bedside table, it's three thirty and he's been asleep for three and a half hours. He rolls onto his back and lets his eyes drift shut again. Just as he's beginning to slip back into sleep, a tiny foot jabs at his chest and comes extremely close to popping him right in the mouth. Still groggy, he jerks in surprise, which is not a good idea when you're right at the edge of the bed. He goes tumbling noisily to the ground, eyes snapping open in shock. Pushing himself onto his knees, he jolts upright and blinks at the little girl in the bed. She stirs lightly at the commotion he makes, but does not wake, rubbing at her face and then going still once again.

''Really?'' He grumbles under his breath, staring at her. ''_Really?_''

She is lying sprawled out on her back, arms spread out, legs spread out, tangled in the sheets and blankets with her head at the foot of the bed. She has one arm thrown out, fingers clutching at Bart, and her hair is curtaining her face. She looks comfortable. He rises to his feet, mumbling profanity.

Ruby is nowhere in sight. It's a red flag situation. He scrubs a hand over his face and glances back at Bray. Gently, being extra careful not to wake her, he untangles Bray from the sheets and lifts her into his arms, turning her around on the bed and shushing her softly when she whimpers in displeasure. She opens her eyes as he's smoothing the hair away from her face. ''Hi, Daddy,'' she slurs out, looking at him through glossy eyes.

''Hi, sugar,'' he sits down on the bed and pulls the covers over her, placing Bart back in her arms where he belongs. ''Go back to sleep.'' He leans down to kiss her forehead quickly and when he stands, she rolls over, burrowing farther into the blankets and hiding her face in the pillow. She makes a small noise of content and then goes back to sleep. He waits until he's certain she's sound asleep and then he tip toes out of the room to go check on Ruby.

He closes the door as quietly as he can and the second he turns around, he slams right into Sam. ''Fu - '' He cuts himself off, lowering his voice. ''Jesus, Sam,'' he hisses out in a whisper.

Bleary eyed and unsteady on his feet, Sam manages a weak smirk that soon turns into a yawn. ''I thought I heard a crash.''

''I fell out of bed.''

Sam nods, and the smirks again. ''You fall out of bed a lot?''

Dean clenches his jaw. ''It's not funny.''

Sam shrugs his shoulders. ''Whatever.''

''It's not. Lila Bray's a bed hogger and she ki - ''

Down the hall, the bathroom door opens.

Dean is struck by the sudden blinding panic when he sees Ruby. She is standing in the doorway of the bathroom with one hand gripping the doorframe like it's a life preserver, the other clutching her stomach. There is sweat beading on her forehead and she is white as a ghost. ''Ruby...'' He shoves past Sam to get to her, all traces of tiredness drying up. Her eyes are watery when he gets to her, whether it's out of fear or pain, he's not sure. ''Sweetheart, what's wrong?'' He loops a steadying arm around her waist and tries to get her to meet his eyes. ''Morning sickness again?''

She flinches. ''I-I don't know.'' She squirms uncomfortably and her fingers wrap around his wrist, fingernails digging into his flesh. He barely feels it. ''I thought it was, but...'' She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, breathing out through her mouth. She looks like she's about to either throw up or pass out, possibly both, and there is a searing pang of dread burning a hole right through his chest.

''Hey.'' It comes of a little more gruff than he had intended, sounding strangled and panicked. ''Talk to me, sweetheart.''

''I just... I don't feel good, Dean. I really don't feel good.''

He opens his mouth to ask her what that means _exactly,_ but nothing comes out. He can't think straight. The terror has fucked with his vocal chords. It is not just morning sickness anymore. But then Sam is there, calm and steady and he's got one of his giant paws tangled in Ruby's much smaller hand and he's practically bent in half to meet her eyes. ''Ruby,'' his voice is a soothing lilt as Dean brushes hair away from her sticky with sweat forehead. ''Define not good. Is this like a nauseous thing, or are you having cramps?''

Without warning, her entire body shudders and she lets out a mewl of pain, strangled and guttural as if all of the air has been knocked out of her. Worst sound in the world. Her grip on the doorframe slackens and her legs crumple beneath her, leaving Dean to catch her on instinct.

Sam stands straight, suddenly not so calm anymore, eyes twice the size.

''Ruby,'' Dean starts to say.

''Oh my god,'' she breathes out. And then she's hysterical, body vibrating with tremors as she bursts into sobs and can't catch her breath. She has been through hell (both literally and figuratively) and neither Winchester brother has ever heard her sound so terrified before. ''I think my water just broke.''

No. _No_. Not this. Not after _everything_. You would think that this would be the low point, but it's not. The night continues to deteriorate and it gets worse. It gets so much worse. Because after Dean herds her into the bathroom to check and see if her water has indeed broken, he then has to come out and inform Sam, ''It's blood.''

(And the hits just keep on coming.)

**end part six**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that was probably my last update for awhile. I feel really bad that <strong>_**this**_** is what I'm leaving you guys with until my hiatus is over. It's not exactly a fluffy and happy Christmas/New Year's gift, now is it? **

**So, just to repeat myself for the millionth time, this is probably going to be my last update before I go on hiatus in Jaunary, therefore this is probably my last update of 2011. I was hoping to get _till dawn, dear_ completed before New Year's, but what are you gonna do, right? I will be returning in 2012 with new chapters of this story, the last two chapters of **_**till dawn, dear**_**, and the last five chapters of **_**Everything You Want.**_

**What's next for **_**i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) **_**in 2012:**

_- Dean and Ruby try to cope with tragedy.  
><em>_- Dean whisks Ruby away for a weekend with just the two of them. It doesn't go as planned.  
><em>_- The events of The Girl Next Door wreak havoc on the Winchester family.  
><em>_- And eventually, Don and Maggie Stark show up._


	7. oh dear, you look so lost

_AN: The other night, I decided to take a hiatus from my hiatus. Originally, I sat down to write this whole other fic that Kathey and I had been talking about involving a certain wayward father. But then this happened. I'm still not back from my hiatus, but here's something to hold you guys (and me - mostly me) over until I return on Valentine's Day._

_WARNINGS: Again, refresher: From here on out, this story deals with loss of pregnancy (late miscarriage) and if that triggers you, I advise you to please, please, please step away. At the very least, proceed with extreme caution. There are also heavy suicidal themes, major, major substance abuse and there will eventually be some heavily implied non-con._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)<strong>

_Written by Becks Rylynn_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Seven<strong>

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/XVI/

_no one can find the rewind button_

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_The grass outside is green - still damp from the sprinkler -, the house has a fresh coat of paint on the outside thanks to the weekend's project, and Dean thinks he will build a picket fence soon and paint it white. This is what he has become. Five years ago, he would've hated this. Would've hated the predictability of staying in one place, would've hated having a steady job and a normal house, complete with the ''how was your day, honey'' at the end of the day. Would've loathed the sticky summer heat and the broken air conditioner. Would've scoffed at the monogamy of it all. But now..._

_Life is extraordinarily fragile and short. It's precious. He's learned that. The little girl sleeping upstairs makes it precious. Makes it worth it. He still can't quite figure out if he's truly happy, because he is still without Sam (and honestly, he is not sure if he knows who he is without Sam) and he is still without Cas, but... He's got his girls. He's not going to sit here and say that his life is perfect. But it's enough. It's enough for now._

_One night in June, with the air conditioner on the fritz and the summer heat soaking into every part of his body, he's in the living room picking up the toys scattered all over the room, and Ruby's on the couch, folding laundry. Except folding laundry is an extremely loose term here. In actuality, she abandoned the laundry about five minutes ago and is currently browsing Netflix and grinning like a five year old. The woman has an addiction._

_''I love Netflix,'' she gushes excitedly. ''It's great. If I could marry Netflix, I probably wouldn't be so against marriage.''_

_He raises his eyebrows and throws a look over his shoulder. ''Well, that's very flattering.''_

_She rolls her eyes and pushes away the laundry basket, curling her legs under her. ''What do you want to watch tonight?'' She asks, flipping through the vast selection of television and movies. Honestly, he's surprised she still leaves the house. ''Oooh, we could watch Sons of Anarchy again. I didn't think that was so bad.''_

_He snorts. ''Veto.''_

_''But it had motorcycles,'' she tries. ''You like motorcycles.''_

_''Bare assed men, Ruby. Bare. Assed. Men.''_

_''One bare assed man,'' she grumbles, but gives up and continues searching. ''Okay, how about Smallville? The show lasted a decade, it had to have been - ''_

_''No,'' he answers shortly._

_''Why not?''_

_''Just no.'' He deposits the last of the toys into the toy chest against the wall and flops onto the couch next to her, slumped down into the cushions. ''Get to the movies. I don't wanna watch TV. If I wanted to watch TV, I'd watch the TV.''_

_''Okay, what about All About Eve? It's a classic.''_

_''Is Marilyn Monroe in that one?''_

_''Briefly, yes. It was her - ''_

_''Then no.''_

_She sighs heavily and presses into his side. ''You're so picky.''_

_''I'm not picky,'' he argues, draping an arm around her almost without thinking. ''I just have taste.''_

_''Funny.'' And then, just to annoy him, she plays All About Eve._

_The appeal of Netflix - for Ruby, at least - is apparently just the browsing process. He learns this when they wind up forgetting about the movie halfway through and making out instead. It's how most of their movie nights go, if he's being honest. Hey. They have a small child. Their love life basically consists of ''hey, the kid's asleep, let's fuck.'' Romance is not usually in the cards. While Bette Davis is doing her thing on screen, he's got Ruby's back pressed into the couch and her fingers are fumbling to open his shirt, practically clawing at it. As his lips move to her neck, her fingers fall away and she announces, quite abruptly, ''I think I want another baby.''_

_His movements still and he draws away from her slowly, staring down at her, jaw open in shock. She blinks up at him with an unwavering expression on her face as if she has just asked him to go get her a bowl of frosted flakes. He is stunned by the declaration - rightfully so, if he does say so himself - so the squeak that winds up tumbling out of his lips is an extremely unhelpful, ''...With me?''_

_She doesn't miss a beat. ''No, with my secret lover, Ernesto. He has a moustache and an accent. You can't compete.''_

_He sits up; fingers absently buttoning his shirt back up as his brain works to process this sudden and unexpected information. ''Oh. I love that guy,'' he remarks. ''He takes so much pressure off of me.''_

_''Dean.'' She sits up, patting down her mussed hair. ''It's serious time, okay? I want another baby and I want to know how you feel about that.''_

_''Well...'' He clears his throat and looks back at the screen. He tries to fathom the idea of another baby. It's strange. He has never been shy about wanting more kids. He's always been very open about his desire to give Bray a little brother or sister. But Ruby... _

_Ruby has always been the exact opposite. During her pregnancy (and for a few months afterwards) she had been adamant that one was all they were going to have. As time went on, she didn't seem to be vehemently opposed to the idea, but she always waved it off with a vague, ''Someday, maybe. Way, way in the future. Why are we talking about this now?''_

_When the hell did they switch places?_

_''I... Are you sure?'' He finally gets out. ''I thought you said - ''_

_''I said someday,'' she butts in. ''And I just feel like...now could be someday.''_

_''Okay,'' he says slowly. ''But why? I mean, why now?''_

_She shrugs. ''I think it would be nice to give Bray a playmate, you know? Someone to grow up with. Be close with. Someone who would understand our lives. Someone close to her in age. I want our kids to be friends.''_

_He does have to admit that he likes the sound of 'our kids'. He clears his throat and reaches out to move hair away from her neck, brushing a thumb over her cheek. ''Ruby,'' he says carefully. ''I want to have more kids with you. ...Okay? I do. You know I want that. But...'' He winces a little and swallows. ''Are you sure this isn't about - I don't know - wanting to feel normal? Is this - Is it boredom?''_

_''No,'' she sighs, shaking her head. ''That's not it. Dean,'' she licks her lips and places a hand on his knee. ''I hate being pregnant. You know that. But I love being a mom. I didn't think I would love it as much as I do,'' she admits. ''But I do. It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but it is so worth it. I have fun. I feel good. I feel human. I feel happy. I like to think I'm a pretty good mom - ''_

_''You're an amazing mom.''_

_'' - And you're an amazing Dad. I just... What's wrong with wanting another one? I know you want more kids. I think we're ready. And there's nothing stopping us now.''_

_He sucks in a breath. He feels a little winded. ''Wow,'' he croaks with a quiet chuckle. ''You've really thought this through, haven't you?''_

_She rests her chin on his shoulder, catching his eyes with a smile. ''I'm not saying we have to get crazy and start scheduling sex, but we could just...not __**not**__ try for awhile.''_

_He thinks that he should be feeling a little more apprehensive right now. Maybe a little worried, but... Another baby. He doesn't think it's an incredibly bad idea. ''Another baby,'' he says out loud, just to see how it sounds. It sounds pretty good._

_She is beaming at him. ''Another baby,'' she whispers. ''Maybe it'll be a boy this time.''_

_''I don't know,'' he meets her eyes. ''Another little girl would be nice. I like my girls.'' He leans in to kiss her, catching her mid-laugh, and she winds her arms around his neck happily._

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/XVII/

_and the devil still comes visiting_

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Sam is only vaguely aware that it is morning. He does not know the exact time or how long he's been sitting in the couch staring at the phone on the coffee table. It's still dark out. Bray is still sleeping. Bobby is puttering around in the kitchen quietly, making coffee and checking in on Bray every few minutes. Sam is still on the couch.

Lucifer is sitting right next to him.

''Hmm,'' Lucifer muses, head tilted to the side, lips puckered curiously. ''Do you know Sylvia Plath?''

Sam twitches and does his best to remain on steady ground.

''_I have had my chances. I have tried and tried. I have stitched life into me like a rare organ, and walked carefully, precariously, like something rare,_'' Lucifer recites.

Sam twitches. ''Shut up,'' he hisses out of the side of his mouth.

''_I did not look. But still the face was there, the face of the unborn one that loved its perfections, the face of the dead one that could only be perfect - _''

''Stop it.''

_''I lose life after life. The dark earth drinks them all.''_

When Bobby ducks out of the room again, Sam turns to Lucifer, blinking.

''Three Women,'' Lucifer says. ''1962. I think - '' he rests his chin in the palm of his hand '' - Sylvia Plath could have benefited from a hug.''

''You're cruel,'' Sam tells him.

The devil smirks. ''_I am a garden of black and red agonies_.''

Sam scoffs and shakes his head, turning back to the cell phone to wait. He does not have time for this.

''Maybe,'' Lucifer hums thoughtfully, ''this is their punishment.''

Sam breaks, just a little. Not enough to be noticed. ''Punishment,'' he repeats hoarsely. ''For what? They haven't done anything wrong.''

''You have no idea what they've done.''

Sam closes his eyes and presses on his hand as hard as he can, until it hurts like hell and he can breathe again.

The phone on the table rings.

He jumps. He is alone when he opens his eyes. He snatches the phone off the table and clears his throat. Is it too late to pray? ''Dean,'' he stands up, just for something to do. ''What's going on? How is she?''

There's a long silence (too long of a silence for it to be good news), a crackling sound, and then Dean clears his throat. _''She, uh, she lost...'' _He trails off. Clears his throat again.

Sam swallows and shuts his eyes briefly, letting out a long breath. ''Dean...''

_''When we got here, she was in a lot of pain and there was a lot of blood and the baby was...it was in distress and the doctors tried, but they couldn't...'' _His voice breaks and he clears his throat yet again, like he always does when he doesn't know what to say or when he's trying not to crack. _''They're not sure exactly what caused it...Whether it was a placental abruption or if there was something wrong with the baby...like a defect... Look, I should go. They're... She's going to have to deliver, Sam.''_

There's an unpleasant twisting in Sam's gut, and a knot forms in his chest. ''Okay, listen. I'm coming to you, Dean, all right? I'll be right there.''

_''No! No, Sam. No.''_ Dean releases a heavy sigh and sounds like that ever present weight on his shoulders has moved to his chest and his lungs and his throat, brutally crushing his windpipe. _''Just...Just stay there. I need you to stay with Lila Bray.''_

Sam ignores him; is already searching around desperately for his jacket. ''Dean - ''

_''Sam.''_

Sam stops and snaps to attention.

_''Ruby doesn't want anyone else here for this.''_

Sam deflates and has to sink onto the couch when it feels like his legs won't support him anymore. He combs a hand through his mess of unruly hair. He doesn't think he has it in him to argue. ''Okay.''

_''Just take care of my girl for me, will you? I don't want her to worry.'' _That is when Dean's voice breaks. There is a noticeable hitch, a catch in his throat, like some sort of combination of a sob, a sigh, and a bitter laugh.

''I've got her,'' Sam promises, because it's all he can do. He lets Dean go and drops the useless cell back onto the scratched coffee table. His eyes are tired, burning and blurry, and his heart is heavy. He feels strangely discombobulated. Like he's not really here. Like he's floating along in some kind of dream. In some kind of nightmare from the other side of the wall. The cynical part of his brain is telling him that he should not be surprised. Ruby had been so sick and so stressed...and since when did life treat them fairly? He feels like he should be doing something other than sitting here and stewing in his own grief. God, does he even have any right to feel this way? He wasn't his baby. He wasn't the one carrying it. He wasn't the father.

Helplessly, he lets his head fall into his hands and when he looks back up again, Lucifer is lounging next to him with his feet on the coffee table. ''The heart,'' says the devil, ''is a minefield. ...Isn't it, Sammy?''

Sam says, ''Fuck off.''

.

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/XVIII/

_oh dear, you look so lost_

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The sun rises in Whitefish, Montana and the inside of the blindingly white hospital room glows as sunshine peeks through the flimsy curtains.

And Dean Winchester is left sitting stoically at a bedside with metaphorical blood on his hands. It is_ still _nothing new. What it is, is a never ending cycle. Their lives are still stuck on repeat. Things ebb, they flow. Hearts beat, blood pumps, their shoes wear holes in the floor from all of the pacing. Everything they touch shrivels and dies and disintegrates into ashes. He can't make it stop. He'd give anything to make it stop.

Dean focuses all of his attention on the woman in the bed, on her dull eyes and her stringy hair. She actually physically _looks_ empty. It's horrifying. Feeling much older than his thirty three years, he leans forwards, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as he murmurs soundlessly into his hands. It takes him a second to realize that, without thinking, he has begun to pray for Cas. (That's really quite unfortunate.)

She moves in the hospital bed, and it startles him. She hasn't so much as moved a muscle since the sedatives they gave her kicked in. She is grimacing lightly, squirming uncomfortably. ''Ruby,'' it comes out breathlessly. He jumps to his feet and rushes towards her, instinctively taking her hand. ''What do you need?'' She shakes her head and slips her hand out of his, winding both arms around her middle. He tries not to wince; smoothes hair out of her face tenderly like she delicate and made from porcelain. ''Are you in any pain?'' He flinches at his own choice of words and kicks himself when she sends him a bitter look. ''Physical pain,'' he corrects. ''Are you in any_ physical _pain?''

She shakes her head again and turns away from him, rolling onto her side with her back to him.

He goes still and his brain works sluggishly to figure out what to do next. He doesn't move over to the other side of the bed to face her, and he doesn't say anything because he doesn't know what to say. Words, he knows, won't fix this. Words, he _knows, _mean nothing. The silence oozes between them, coats the space between the two of them, traps them apart on opposite sides of the spectrum. Bit by bit, life is beginning to chip away at them. He can see it. Everything they have and everything they've built is slowly crumbling into bits and pieces. As bits and pieces go, this was a fairly substantial chunk that has just been blown to smithereens.

The sunlight illuminates the dust in the air and turns everything golden. ''It was a girl,'' she whispers. Her voice is scratchy and hoarse from disuse.

There is a tightening in his chest and a churning in his stomach. Nothing has ever hurt quite like this. ''I know,'' he rasps.

''She was so small,'' she slurs. She's crying. He can hear it in her voice.

The air around him thins and he can't catch his breath. He is still standing in a patch of sunlight. She is still lying in the dark with her back to him. He doesn't need to see her to know that her face is contorted in pain and there are tears running down her cheeks. ''But she was beautiful,'' he says, voice tight.

She makes a small, quiet noise of pain, sniffling and letting her shoulders shake with sobs. ''It was,'' she starts. ''It was Mary, right?''

He blanches. His face pales, and his mouth dries up. ''What?'' He croaks out.

She rolls over to face him, tears glistening on her cheeks. ''If we hadn't settled on Lila Bray, we were going to name her Mary. Do you remember that? And then...then we always said that if we ever had another little girl, we would name her Mary. ...Because it was what you wanted, remember? This baby...This little girl... She would've been our Mary. She was our Mary.''

He has to sit down. ''I...I guess she was,'' he finally forces out. ''Our Mary.'' There is a suddenly prickling behind his eyes and a fucking boulder in his throat. ''Ruby,'' he stands. ''I have to go. ...Um, I'm just going to go call and check on... I'll be right back.'' He ducks out of the stifling, suffocating hospital room before she can say a word, staggering out into the hallway and trying to breathe.

He's not sure if he's going to vomit or pass out, but something unpleasant is happening here. Mary, he echoes in his head, bracing himself heavily against the wall. Mary. That's excruciating. His breathing is quickening, his pulse is racing, and he feels like he's on fire, trembling and quaking. It's like a convulsion. Mary. And then he laughs. It is an extremely painful laugh, full of venom and hatred and grief - there's always so much of that.

The sobs come next, and then he's on the ground, laughing and crying and wondering what the hell is supposed to come next.

_And it's Mary, _that little voice in the back of his head, soft and slow and mocking, whispers. _It's always Mary. You Winchesters... You just can't hang onto a Mary to save your goddamned lives, can you?_

_Can you?_

**end part seven**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, that was depressing. And unfortunately, it's going to have to get a hell of a lot worse for the family before it can get better.<strong>

**Up Next:**

_Dean and Ruby continue to drift apart in the wake of the miscarriage._


End file.
